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THE   COLIiECTED  "WORKS  OF 

HENRIK   IBSEN 


VOLUME  I 

LADY    INGER    OF    OSTRAT 

THE    FEAST    AT    SOLHOUG 

LOVE'S    COMEDY 


THE   COLLECTED   WORKS    OF 

HENRIK     IBSEN 

Copyright  Edition.    Complete  in  13  Vohtmcs 

ENTIRELY  REVISED  AND  EDITED  BY 

WILLIAM  ARCHER 

Volume  I.    Lady  Inger  of  Ostrat,  The  Feast  at  Sol- 
houg.  Love's  Comedy 
II.    The  Vikings  at  Helgeland,  The  Pretenders 

III.  Brand 

IV.  PeerGynt 
V.    Enperor  and  Galilean  (2  parts) 

VI.    League  of  Youth,  Pillars  of  Society 
VII.    A  Doll's  House,  Ghosts 
VIII.  .An  Enemy  of  the  People,  The  Wild  Duck 
IX.     Rosmersholm,  The  Lady  from  the  Sea 

X.     Hedda  Gabler,  The  Master  Builder 
XI.    Little  Eyolf,  John  Gabriel  Borkman 
When  We  Dead  Awaken 
XII.    From  Ibsen's  Workshop 
XIII.    The  Life  of  Hen rik  Ibsen.    By 
Edmund  Gosse 


The  above  volumes.  Cloth,  limo,      -      net  $1.00  each 

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CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 


THE    COLLECTED   WORKS    OF 

HENRI K    IBSEN 

Copyright  Edition 


VOLUME    I 

LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

THE    FEAST   AT    SOLHOUG 

LOVE'S    COMEDY 

WITH     INTRODUCTIONS    BY 

WILLIAM     ARCHER 

AND 

C.    H.    HERFORD,    Litt.D.,    M.A. 


NEW    YORK 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

1916 


•'THE   FEAST    AT   SOLHOUG,"    AND    INTRODUCTIONS 
BY    WILLIAM    ARCHER 

Copyright,  1908,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


CONTENTS 


General  Preface  

Introduction  to  " Lady  Inoer  of  Ostrat " 
Introduction  to  "The  Feast  at  Solhouo  " 
Introduction  to  "Love's  Comedy*'    . 


PAGE 

vii 


"Lady  Inger  of  Ostrat"        .... 
Translated  by  Charles  Aucher 

Author's  Preface  to  "The  Feast  at  Solhoug"     181 

"  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  " 195 

Translated  by  William  Archer  and  Mary  Morrison 


"Love's  Comedy"  .       .      .      . 
Translated  by  C.  H.  Herfor* 


285 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


Iittp://www.arcliive.org/details/collectedworksof01ibseiala 


GENERAL    PREFACE. 

The  eleven  volumes  of  this  edition  contain  all, 
save  one,  of  the  dramas  which  Henrik  Ibsen 
himself  admitted  to  the  canon  of  his  works. 
The  one  exception  is  his  earliest,  and  very  im- 
mature, tragedy,  Catilina,  first  published  in 
1850,  and  republished  in  1875.  This  play  is 
interesting  in  the  light  reflected  from  the  poet's 
later  achievements,  but  has  little  or  no  inherent 
value.  A  great  part  of  its  interest  lies  in  the 
very  crudities  of  its  style,  which  it  would  be  a 
thankless  task  to  reproduce  in  translation.  More- 
over, the  poet  impaired  even  its  biographical 
value  by  largely  rewriting  it  before  its  repub- 
lication. He  did  not  make  it,  or  attempt  to 
make  it,  a  better  play,  but  he  in  some  measure 
corrected  its  juvenility  of  expression.  Which 
version,  then,  should  a  translator  choose?  To 
go  back  to  the  original  would  seem  a  deliberate 
disregard  of  the  poet's  wishes ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  retouclied  version  is  clearly  of 
far  inferior  interest.  It  seemed  advisable,  there- 
fore, to  leave  the  play  alone,  so  far  as  this  edi- 
tion was  concerned.  Still  more  clearly  did  it 
vii 


VIU  GENERAL     PREFACE. 


appear  unnecessary  to  include  The  Warrior's 
Barroro  and  Olaf  Liliekrans,  two  early  plays 
which  were  never  admitted  to  any  edition  pre- 
pared by  the  poet  himself.  They  were  included 
in  a  Supplementary  Volume  of  the  Norwegian 
collected  edition,  issued  in  1902,  when  Ibsen's 
life-work  was  over.  They  have  even  less  in- 
trinsic value  than  Catilina,  and  ought  certainly 
to  be  kept  apart  from  the  works  by  which  he 
desired  to  be  remembered.  A  fourth  youthful 
production,  St.  John's  Night,  remains  to  this 
day  in  manuscript.  Not  even  German  piety  has 
dragged  it  to  light. 

With  two  exceptions,  the  plays  appear  in 
their  chronological  order.  The  exceptions  are 
Love's  Comedy,  which  ought  by  rights  to  come 
between  The  Vikings  and  The  Pretenders,  and 
Emperor  and  Galilean,  which  ought  to  follow 
The  League  of  Youth  instead  of  preceding  it. 
The  reasons  of  convenience  which  prompted 
these  departures  from  the  exact  order  are  pretty 
obvious.  It  seemed  highly  desirable  to  bring  the 
two  Saga  Plays,  if  I  may  so  call  them,  into  one 
volume;  while  as  for  Emperor  and  Galilean,  it 
could  not  have  been  placed  between  The  League 
of  Youth  and  Pillars  of  Society  save  by  sepa- 
rating its  two  parts,  and  assigning  Caesar's 
Apostasy  to  Volume  V.,  T'he  Emperor  Julian 
to  Volume  VI. 


GENERAL     PREFACE. 


For  the  translations  of  all  the  plays  in  this 
edition,  except  Love's  Comedy  and  Brand,  I  am 
ultimately  responsible,  in  the  sense  that  I  have 
exercised  an  unrestricted  right  of  revision.  This 
means,  of  course,  that,  in  plays  originally  trans- 
lated by  others,  the  merits  of  the  English  ver- 
sion belong  for  the  most  part  to  the  original 
translator,  while  the  faults  may  have  been  in- 
troduced, and  must  have  been  sanctioned,  by  me. 
The  revision,  whether  fortunate  or  otherwise, 
has  in  all  cases  been  very  thorough. 

In  their  unrevised  form,  these  translations 
have  met  with  a  good  deal  of  praise  and  with 
some  blame.  I  trust  that  the  revision  has  ren- 
dered them  more  praiseworthy,  but  I  can  scarce- 
ly hope  that  it  has  met  all  the  objections  of 
those  critics  who  have  found  them  blameworthy. 
For,  in  some  cases  at  any  rate,  these  objections 
proceeded  from  theories  of  the  translator's  func- 
tion widely  divergent  from  my  own — theories  of 
which  nothing,  probably,  could  disabuse  the 
critic's  mind,  save  a  little  experience  of  the  dif- 
ficulties of  translating  (as  distinct  from  adapt- 
ing) dramatic  prose.  Ibsen  is  at  once  extremely 
easy  and  extremely  difficult  to  translate.  It  is 
extremely  easy,  in  his  prose  plays,  to  realise 
his  meaning;  it  is  often  extremely  difficult  to 
convey  it  in  natural,  colloquial,  and  yet  not  too 
colloquial,    English.      He   is    especially    fond   of 


GENERAL      PREFACE. 


laying  barbed-wire  entanglements  for  the  trans- 
lator's feet,  in  the  shape  of  recurrent  phrases 
for  which  it  is  absolutely  impossible  to  find  an 
equivalent  that  will  fit  in  all  the  different  con- 
texts. But  this  is  only  one  of  many  classes  of 
obstacles  which  encountered  us  on  almost  every 
page.  I  think,  indeed,  that  my  collaborators 
and  I  may  take  it  as  no  small  compliment  that 
some  of  our  critics  have  apparently  not  realised 
the  difficulties  of  our  task,  or  divined  the  labori- 
ous hours  which  have  often  gone  to  the  turning 
of  a  single  phrase.  And,  in  not  a  few  cases, 
the  difficulties  have  proved  sheer  impossibilities. 
I  will  cite  only  one  instance.  Writing  of  The 
Master  Builder,  a  very  competent,  and  indeed 
generous,  critic  finds  in  it  "  a  curious  example 
of  perhaps  inevitable  inadequacy.  .  .  .  '  Duty ! 
Duty !  Duty !  '  Hilda  once  exclaims  in  a  scorn- 
ful outburst.  '  What  a  short,  sharp,  stinging 
word !  '  The  epitliets  do  not  seem  specially  apt. 
But  in  the  original  she  cries  out  *  Pligt !  Pligt ! 
Pligt !  '  and  the  very  word  stings  and  snaps." 
I  submit  that  in  this  criticism  there  is  one  super- 
fluous word — to  wit,  the  "  perhaps  "  which 
qualifies  "  inevitable."  For  the  term  used  by 
Hilda,  and  for  the  idea  in  her  mind,  there  is 
only  one  possible  English  equivalent:  "  Duty." 
The  actress  can  speak  it  so  as  more  or  less  to 
justify  Hilda's  feeling  towards  it;  and,  for  the 


GENERAL      PREFACE. 


rest,  the  audience  must  "  piece  out  our  imper- 
fections with  their  thoughts  "  and  assume  that 
the  Norwegian  word  has  rather  more  of  a  sting 
in  its  sound.  It  might  be  possible,  no  doubt, 
to  adapt  Hilda's  phrase  to  the  English  word, 
and  say,  "  It  sounds  like  the  swish  of  a  whip- 
lash," or  something  to  that  effect.  But  this  is 
a  sort  of  freedom  which,  rightly  or  wrongly,  I 
hold  inadmissible.  Once  grant  the  right  of 
adaptation,  even  in  small  particulars,  and  it 
would  be  impossible  to  say  where  it  should  stop. 
The  versions  here  presented  (of  the  prose  plays, 
at  any  rate)  are  translations,  not  paraphrases. 
If  we  have  ever  dropped  into  paraphrase,  it  is 
a  dereliction  of  principle;  and  I  do  not  remem- 
ber an  instance.  For  stage  purposes,  no  doubt, 
a  little  paring  of  rough  edges  is  here  and  there 
allowable;  but  even  that,  I  think,  should  seldom 
go  beyond  the  omission  of  lines  which  mani- 
festly lose  their  force  in  translation,  or  are  in- 
comprehensible without  a  footnote. 

In  the  Introductions  to  previous  editions  I 
have  always  confined  myself  to  the  statement 
of  biographical  and  historic  facts,  holding  criti- 
cism no  part  of  my  business.  Now  that  Henrik 
Ibsen  has  passed  away,  and  his  works  have  taken 
a  practically  uncontested  place  in  world-litera- 
ture, this  reticence  seemed  no  longer  imposed 
upon    me.       I    have    consequently    made    a    few 


XU  GENERAL      PREFACE. 


critical  remarks  on  eacli  play,  chiefly  directed 
towards  tracing  the  course  of  the  poet's  tech- 
nical development.  Nevertheless,  the  Introduc- 
tions are  still  mainly  biographical,  and  full  ad- 
A^antage  has  been  taken  of  the  stores  of  new 
information  contained  in  Ibsen's  Letters,  and 
in  the  books  and  articles  about  him  that  have 
appeared  since  his  death,  I  have  prefixed  to 
Lady  Inger  of  Ostrdt  a  sketch  of  the  poet's 
life  down  to  the  date  of  that  play;  so  that  the 
Introductions,  read  in  sequence,  will  be  found 
to  form  a  pretty  full  record  of  a  career  which, 
save  for  frequent  changes  of  domicile,  and  the 
issuing  of  play  after  play,  was  singularly  un- 
eventful. 

The  Introductions  to  Love's  Comedy  and 
Brand,  as  well  as  the  translations,  are  entirely 
the  work  of  Professor  Herford. 

A  point  of  typography  perhaps  deserves  re- 
mark. The  Norwegian  (and  German)  method 
of  indicating  emphasis  by  spacing  the  letters  of 
a  word,  thus,  has  been  adopted  in  this  edition. 
It  is  preferable  for  various  reasons  to  the  use 
of  italics.  In  dramatic  work,  for  one  thing, 
emphases  have  sometimes  to  be  indicated  so  fre- 
quently that  the  peppering  of  the  page  with 
italics  would  produce  a  very  ugly  eft'ect.  But 
a  more  important  point  is  this :  the  italic  fount 
suggests  a  stronger  emphasis  than   the   author. 


GENERAL   PREFACE.  Xl'ft' 


as  a  rule,  intends.  The  spacing  of  a  word, 
especially  if  it  be  short,  will  often  escape  the 
eye  which  does  not  look  very  closely;  and  this 
is  as  it  should  be.  Spacing,  as  Ibsen  employs 
it,  does  not  generally  indicate  any  obtrusive 
stress,  but  is  merely  a  guide  to  the  reader  in 
case  a  doubt  should  arise  in  his  mind  as  to  which 
of  two  words  is  intended  to  be  the  more  em- 
phatic. When  such  a  doubt  occurs,  the  reader, 
by  looking  closely  at  the  text,  will  often  find  in 
the  spacing  an  indication  which  may  at  first 
have  escaped  him.  In  almost  all  cases,  a  spaced 
word  in  the  translation  represents  a  spaced  word 
in  the  original.  I  have  very  seldom  used  spac- 
ing to  indicate  an  emphasis  peculiar  to  the  Eng- 
lish phraseology.  The  system  was  first  intro- 
duced in  1897,  in  the  translation  of  John  Gabriel 
Borkman.  It  has  no  longer  even  the  disad- 
vantage of  unfamiliarity,  since  it  has  been 
adopted  by  Mr.  Bernard  Shaw  in  his  printed 
plays,  and,  I  believe,  by  other  dramatists. 

Just  thirty  years  have  passed  since  I  first  put 
pen  to  paper  in  a  translation  of  Ibsen.  In  Octo- 
ber 1877,  Pillars  of  Society  reached  me  hot 
from  the  press ;  and,  having  devoured  it,  I 
dashed  off  a  translation  of  it  in  less  than  a 
week.  It  has  since  cost  me  five  or  six  times 
as  much  work  in  revision  as  it  originally  did 


XIV  GENERAL      PREFACE. 


in  translation.  The  manuscript  was  punctually 
returned  to  me  by  more  than  one  publisher;  and 
something  like  ten  years  elapsed  before  it  slowly 
dawned  on  me  that  the  translating  and  editing 
of  Ibsen's  works  was  to  be  one  of  the  chief 
labours,  as  it  has  certainly  been  one  of  the 
greatest  privileges,  of  my  life.  Since  1887  or 
thereabouts,  not  many  months  have  passed  in 
which  a  considerable  portion  of  my  time  has  not 
been  devoted  to  acting,  in  one  form  or  another, 
as  intermediary  between  Ibsen  and  the  English- 
speaking  public.  The  larger  part  of  the  work, 
in  actual  bulk,  I  have  myself  done;  but  I  have 
had  invaluable  aid  from  many  quarters,  and  not 
merely  from  those  fellow-workers  who  are  named 
in  the  following  pages  as  the  original  translators 
of  certain  of  the  plays.  These  "  helpers  and 
servers,"  as  Solness  would  say,  are  too  many  to 
be  individually  mentioned;  but  to  all  of  them, 
and  chiefly  to  one  who  has  devoted  to  the  serv- 
ice of  Ibsen  a  good  deal  of  the  hard-won  leisure 
of  Indian  official  life,  I  hereby  convey  my  heart- 
felt thanks. 

The  task  is  now  ended.  Though  it  has  in- 
volved not  a  little  sheer  drudgery,  it  has,  on  the 
whole,  been  of  absorbing  interest.  And  I  should 
have  been  ungrateful  indeed  had  I  shrunk  from 
drudgery  in  the  cause  of  an  author  who  had 
meant  so  much  to  me.      I  have  experienced  no 


GENERAL      PREFACE. 


other  literary  emotion  at  all  comparable  to  the 
eagerness  with  which,  ever  since  1877,  I  awaited 
each  new  play  of  Ibsen's,  or  the  excitement  with 
which  I  tore  off  the  wrapper  of  the  postal  pack- 
ets in  which  the  little  paper-covered  books  ar- 
rived from  Copenhagen.  People  who  are  old 
enough  to  remember  the  appearance  of  the 
monthly  parts  of  David  Copperfeld  or  Penden- 
nis  may  have  some  inkling  of  my  sensations; 
but  they  were  all  the  intenser  as  they  recurred 
at  intervals,  not  of  one  month,  but  of  two  years. 
And  it  was  not  Ibsen  the  man  of  ideas  or  doc- 
trines that  meant  so  much  to  me;  it  was  Ibsen 
the  pure  poet,  the  creator  of  men  and  women, 
the  searcher  of  hearts,  the  weaver  of  strange 
webs  of  destiny.  I  can  only  trust  that,  by  dili- 
gence in  seeking  for  the  best  interpretation  of 
his  thoughts,  I  have  paid  some  part  of  my  debt 
to  that  great  spirit,  and  to  the  glorious  country 
that  gave  him  birth. 

William  Archer. 


LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT. 


INTRODUCTION.* 

Henrik  Johan  Ibsen  was  bom  on  March  20, 
1828,  at  the  little  seaport  of  Skien,  situated  at  the 
head  of  a  long  fiord  on  the  south  coast  of  Nor- 
way. His  great-great-grandfather  was  a  Dane  who 
settled  in  Bergen  about  1720.  His  great-grand- 
mother, Wenche  Dischington,  was  the  daughter 
of  a  Scotchman,  who  had  settled  and  become 
naturalised  in  Norway;  and  Ibsen  himself  was 
inclined  to  ascribe  some  of  his  characteristics  to 
the  Scottish  strain  in  his  blood.  Both  his  grand- 
mother (Plesner  by  name)  and  his  mother,  Maria 
Cornelia  Altenburg,  were  of  German  descent.  It 
has  been  said  that  there  was  not  a  drop  of  Nor- 
wegian blood  in  Ibsen's  composition ;  but  it  is 
doubtful  whether  this  statement  can  be  substan- 
tiated. Most  of  his  male  ancestors  were  sailors; 
but  his  father,  Knud  Ibsen,  was  a  merchant. 
When  Henrik  (his  first  child)  was  bom,  he  seems 
to  have  been  prosperous,  and  to  have  led  a  very 
social  and  perhaps  rather  extravagant  life.  But 
when  the  poet  was  eight  years  old  financial  dis- 
aster overtook  the  family,  and  they  had  to  with- 
draw to  a  comparatively  small  farmhouse  on  the 

*  Copyright,  1908,  by  Charles  Soribner'i  Soni. 
xvii 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


outskirts  of  the  little  town,  where  they  lived  in 
poverty  and  retirement. 

As  a  boy,  Ibsen  appears  to  have  been  lacking 
in  animal  spirits  and  the  ordinary  childish  taste 
for  games.  Our  chief  glimpses  of  his  home  life 
are  due  to  his  sister  Hedvig,  the  only  one  of  his 
family  with  whom,  in  after  years,  he  maintained 
any  intercourse,  and  whose  name  he  gave  to  one 
of  his  most  beautiful  creations.^  She  relates  that 
the  only  out-door  amusement  he  cared  for  was 
"  building  " — in  what  material  does  not  appear. 
Among  indoor  diversions,  that  to  which  he  was 
most  addicted  was  conjuring,  a  younger  brother 
serving  as  his  confederate.  We  also  hear  of  his 
cutting  out  fantastically-dressed  figures  in  paste- 
board, attaching  them  to  wooden  blocks,  and 
ranging  them  in  groups  or  tableaux.  He  may  be 
said,  in  short,  to  have  had  a  toy  theatre  without 
the  stage.  In  all  these  amusements  it  is  possible, 
with  a  little  goodwill,  to  divine  the  coming 
dramatist — the  constructive  faculty,  the  taste  for 
technical  legerdemain  (which  made  him  in  his 
youth  so  apt  a  disciple  of  Scribe),  and  the  funda- 
mental passion  for  manipulating  fictitious  char- 
acters. The  education  he  received  was  of  the 
most  ordinary,  but  included  a  little  Latin.  The 
subjects  which  chiefly  interested  him  were  history 
and  religion.  He  showed  no  special  litei*ary  pro- 
clivities, though  a  dream  which  he  narrated  in 
a  school  composition  so  impressed  his  master  that 
he  accused  him  (much  to  the  boy's  indignation) 
of  having  copied  it  out  of  some  book. 

His  chief  taste  was  for  drawing,  and  he  was 
anxious  to  become  an  artist,  but  his  father  could 
'  See  Introduction  to  The  Wild  Duck,  p.  xjuiL 


INTRODUCTION. 


not  afford  to  pay  for  his  training.*  At  the  age 
of  fifteen,  therefore,  he  had  to  set  about  earning 
his  living,  and  was  apprenticed  to  an  apothecary 
in  Grimstad,  a  town  on  the  south-west  coast  of 
iSTorway,  between  Arendal  and  Christianssand. 
He  was  hei-e  in  even  narrower  social  surround- 
ings than  at  Skien.  His  birthplace  numbered 
some  3000  inhabitants,  Grimstad  about  800.  That 
he  was  contented  with  his  lot  cannot  be  supposed ; 
and  the  short,  dark,  taciturn  youth  seems  to  have 
made  an  unsympathetic  and  rather  uncanny  im- 
pression upon  the  burghers  of  the  little  township. 
His  popularity  was  not  heightened  by  a  talent 
which  he  presently  developed  for  drawing  carica- 
tures and  writing  personal  lampoons.  He  found, 
however,  two  admiring  friends  in  Christopher 
Lorentz  Due,  a  custom-house  clerk,  and  a  law 
student  named  Ole  Schulerud. 

The  first  political  event  which  aroused  his  in- 
terest and  stirred  him  to  literary  expression  was 
the  French  Revolution  of  1848.  He  himself 
writes : "  "  The  times  were  much  disturbed.  The 
February  revolution,  the  rising  in  Hungary  and 
elsewhere,  the  Slesvig  War — all  this  had  a  strong 
and  ripening  effect  on  my  development,  imma- 
ture though  it  remained  both  then  and  long 
afterwards.  I  wrote  clangorous  poems  of  encour- 
agement to  the  Magyars,  adjuring  them,  for  the 
sake  of  freedom  and  humanity,  not  to  falter  in 
their  righteous  war  against  '  the  tyrants  ' ;  and  I 
composed  a  long  series  of  sonnets  to  King  Oscar, 
mainly,  so  far  as  I  remember,  urging  him  to  set 

'  He  continued  to  dabble  in  painting  until  he  was  thirty,  or 
thereabouts. 

'  Preface  to  the  second  edition  of  Calilina,  1875. 


XX  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT. 


aside  all  petty  considerations,  and  marcli  without 
delay,  at  the  head  of  his  army,  to  the  assistance 
of  our  Danish  brothers  on  the  Slesvig  frontier." 
These  effusions  remained  in  manuscript,  and 
have,  for  the  most  part,  perished.  About  the 
same  time  he  was  reading  for  his  matriculation 
examination  at  Christiania  University,  where  he 
proposed  to  study  medicine;  and  it  happened  that 
the  Latin  books  prescribed  were  Sallust's  Catiline 
and  Cicero's  Catilinarian  Orations.  "  I  devoured 
these  documents,''  says  Ibsen,  "  and  a  few  months 
later  my  drama  ICatilina^  was  finished."  His 
friend  Schulerud  took  it  to  Christiania,  to  offer 
it  to  the  theatre  and  to  the  publishers.  By  both 
it  was  declined.  Schulerud,  however,  had  it 
printed  at  his  own  expense;  and  soon  after  its 
appearance,  in  the  early  spring  of  1850,  Ibsen 
himself  came  to  Christiania.^ 

For  the  most  part  written  in  blank  verse,  Cati- 
lina  towards  the  close  breaks  into  rhyming  tro- 
chaic lines  of  thirteen  and  fifteen  syllables.  It 
is  an  extremely  youthful  production,  very  inter- 
esting from  the  biographical  point  of  view,  but 
of  small  substantive  merit.  What  is  chiefly 
notable  in  it,  perhaps,  is  the  fact  that  it  already 
shows  Ibsen  occupied  with  the  theme  which  was 
to  run  through  so  many  of  his  works — the  con- 
trast between  two  types  of  womanhood,  one 
strong  and  resolute,  even  to  criminality,  the  other 
comparatively  weak,  clinging,  and  "  feminine " 
in  the  conventional  sense  of  the  word. 

In  Christiania  Ibsen  shared  Schulerud's  lodg- 

'  Thie  ia  his  own  statement  of  the  order  of  events.  Accord- 
ing to  Halvdan  Koht  (^Samlcde  Virrker,  vol.  x.  p.  i.)  he  ar- 
rived in  Christiania  in  March,  1850,  and  Catilina  did  not 
appear  until  April. 


INTRODUCTION. 


ings,  and  his  poverty.  There  is  a  significant  sen- 
tence in  his  preface  to  the  re-written  Caiilina, 
in  which  he  tells  how  the  bulk  of  the  first  edition 
was  sold  as  waste  paper,  and  adds :  "  In  the  days 
immediately  following  we  lacked  none  of  the  first 
necessities  of  life."  He  went  to  a  "  student- 
factory,"  or,  as  we  should  say,  a  "  crammers," 
managed  by  one  Heltberg;  and  there  he  fell  in 
with  several  of  the  leading  spirits  of  his  genera- 
tion— notably  with  Bjornson,  A.  O.  Vinje,  and 
Jonas  Lie.  In  the  early  summer  of  1850  he 
wrote  a  one-act  play,  Kicempehdicn  {The  Vt'ar- 
rior's  Barroiv),  entirely  in  the  sentimental  and 
somewhat  verbose  manner  of  the  Danish  poet 
Oehlenschliiger.  It  was  accepted  by  the  Chris- 
tiania  Theatre,  and  performed  three  times,  but 
cannot  have  put  much  money  in  the"  poet's  purse. 
With  Paul  Botten-TIansen  and  A.  O.  Vinje  he 
co-operated  in  the  production  of  a  weekly  satir- 
ical paper,  at  first  entitled  Manden  (The  Man), 
but  afterwards  Andhrimner,  after  the  cook  of 
the  gods  in  Valhalla.  To  this  journal,  which 
lasted  only  from  January  to  September,  1851, 
he  contributed,  among  other  things,  a  satirical 
"music-tragedy,"  entitled  Norma,  or  a  Politi- 
cian's Love.  As  the  circulation  of  the  paper  is 
said  to  have  been  something  under  a  hundred,  it 
cannot  have  paid  its  contributors  very  lavishly. 
About  this  time,  too,  he  narrowly  escaped  arrest 
on  accoimt  of  some  political  agitation,  in  which, 
however,  he  had  not  been  very  deeply  concerned. 
Meanwhile  a  movement  had  been  going  forward 
in  the  capital  of  Western  Norway,  Bergen,  which 
was  to  have  a  determining  influence  on  Ibsen's 
destinies. 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


Up  to  1850  there  had  been  practically  no  Nor- 
wegian drama.  The  two  great  poets  of  the  first 
half  of  the  century,  Wergeland  and  Welhaven, 
had  nothing  dramatic  in  their  composition, 
though  Wergeland  more  tlian  once  essayed  the 
dramatic  form.  Danish  actors  and  Danish  plays 
held  entire  possession  of  the  Christiania  Theatre; 
and,  though  amateur  performances  were  not  un- 
common in  provincial  towns,  it  was  generally 
held  that  the  ISTorwegians,  as  a  nation,  were  de- 
void of  all  talent  for  acting.  The  very  sound  of 
Norwegian  (as  distinct  from  Danish)  was  held 
by  Norwegians  themselves  to  be  ridiculous  on  the 
stage.  Fortunately  Ole  Bull,  the  great  violinist, 
was  not  of  that  opinion.  With  the  insight  of 
genius,  he  saw  that  the  time  had  come  for  the 
development  of  a  national  drama  ;  he  set  forth 
this  view  in  a  masterly  argument  addressed  to  the 
Storthing;  and  he  gave  practical  effect  to  it  by 
establishing,  at  his  own  risk,  a  Norwegian  The- 
atre in  Bergen.  Ifow  rightly  he  had  judged  the 
situation  may  be  estimated  from  the  fact  that 
among  the  raw  lads  who  first  presented  them- 
selves for  employment  was  Johannes  Brun,  after- 
wards one  of  the  greatest  of  comedians;  while 
the  first  "  theatre-poet "  engaged  by  the  manage- 
ment Avas  none  other  than  Henrik  Ibsen. 

The  theatre  was  opened  on  January  2,  1850; 
Ibsen  entered  upon  his  duties  (at  a  salary  of  less 
than  £70  a  year)  in  November,  1851.' 

Incredibly,  pathetically  small,  according  to  our 

'  The  history  of  Ibsen's  connection  with  the  Bergen  Theatre 
is  written  at  some  length  in  an  article  by  nie,  entitled  "Ibsen's 
Af)i)renticesliii),"  published  in  the  FiirtiiKj'htlij  Rtviitv  for 
January,  1904.  From  that  article  1  qnote  freely  in  the  fol- 
lowing pagus. 


INTRODUCTION. 


ideas,  were  the  material  resources  of  Bull's  gal- 
lant enterprise.  The  town  of  Bergen  numbered 
only  25,000  inhabitants.  Performances  were  given 
only  twice,  or,  at  the  outside,  three  times,  a  week; 
and  the  highest  price  of  admission  was  two 
shillings.  What  can  have  been  attempted  in  the 
way  of  scenery  of  costumes  it  is  hard  to  imagine. 
Of  a  three-act  play,  produced  in  1852,  we  read 
that  "  the  mounting,  which  cost  £22  10s.,  left 
nothing  to  be  desired." 

Ibsen's  connection  with  the  Bergen  Theatre 
lasted  from  November  6,  1S51,  until  the  summer 
of  1857 — that  is  to  say,  from  his  twenty-fourth 
to  his  thirtieth  year.  lie  was  engaged  in  the 
first  instance  "  to  assist  the  theatre  as  dramatic 
author,"  but  in  the  following  year  he  received 
from  the  management  a  "  travelling  stipend  "  of 
£45  to  enable  him  to  study  the  art  of  theatrical 
production  in  Denmark  and  Germany,  with  the 
stipulation  that,  on  his  return,  he  should  under- 
take the  duties  of  "  scene  instructor  " — that  is 
to  say,  stage-manager  or  producer.  In  this  func- 
tion he  seems  to  have  been — as,  indeed,  he  always 
was — extremely  conscientious.  A  book  exists  in 
the  Bergen  Public  Library  containing  (it  is  said) 
careful  designs  by  him  for  every  scene  in  the 
plays  he  produced,  and  full  notes  as  to  entrances, 
exits,  groupings,  costumes,  accessories,  &c.  But 
he  was  not  an  animating  or  inspiring  producer. 
He  had  none  of  the  histrionic  vividness  of  his 
successor  in  the  post,  Bjornstjerne  Bjornson, 
who,  like  all  great  producers,  could  not  only  tell 
the  actors  what  to  do,  but  show  them  how  to  do 
it.  Perhaps  it  was  a  sense  of  his  lack  of  impulse 
that  induced  the  management  to  give  him  a  col- 


LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT. 


league,  one  Herman  Lading,  with  whom  his  rela- 
tions were  none  of  the  happiest.  Ibsen  is  even 
said,  on  one  occasion,  to  have  challenged  Lading 
to  a  duel. 

One  of  the  duties  of  the  "  theatre-poet "  was 
to  have  a  new  play  ready  for  each  recurrence  of 
the  "  Foundation  Day  "  of  the  theatre,  January  2. 
On  that  date,  in  1853,  Ibsen  produced  a  romantic 
comedy,  St.  John^s  Night.  This  is  the  only  one 
of  his  plays  that  has  never  been  printed.  From 
the  accounts  of  those  who  have  seen  the  manu- 
script, it  would  appear  to  be  a  strange  jumble  of 
fantastic  fairy-lore  with  modern  comedy  or  melo- 
drama. Perhaps  it  is  not  quite  fanciful  to  re- 
gard it  as  a  sort  of  half-way  house  between  A 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream  and  Peer  Gynt.  In 
one  of  its  scenes  there  appears  to  be  an  unmis- 
takable foreshadowing  of  the  episode  in  the  Troll- 
King's  palace  {Peer  Gynt,  Act  II.,  Sc.  6).  The 
play  had  no  success,  and  was  performed  only 
twice.  For  the  next  Foundation  Day,  January  2, 
1854,  Ibsen  prepared  a  revised  version  of  The 
'Warrior''s  Barrow,  already  produced  in  Chris- 
tiania.  A  year  later,  January  2,  1855,  Lady 
Inger  of  Ostrdt  was  produced — a  work  still  im- 
mature, indeed,  but  giving,  for  the  first  time,  no 
uncertain  promise  of  the  master  dramatist  to 
come. 

In  an  autobiographical  letter  to  the  Danish 
critic,  Peter  Hansen,  written  from  Dresden  in 
1870,  Ibsen  says:  "Lady  Inger  of  Ostrdt  is  the 
result  of  a  love-affair — hastily  entered  into  and 
violently  broken  off— to  which  several  of  my 
minor   poems   may   also   be   attributed,   such    as 


INTRODUCTION. 


Wild-flowers  and  Pot-plants,  A  Bird-Song,  &c." 
The  heroine  of  this  love-affair  can  now  be  iden- 
tified as  a  lady  named  Ilenrikke  Hoist,  who  seems 
to  have  preserved  through  a  long  life  the  fresh, 
bright  spirit,  the  overtlowing  joyousness,  which 
attracted  Ibsen  when  she  was  only  in  her  sev- 
enteenth year.  Their  relation  was  of  the  most 
innocent.  It  went  no  further  than  a  few  surrep- 
titious rambles  in  the  romantic  surroundings  of 
Bergen,  usually  with  a  somewhat  older  girl  to 
play  propriety,  and  with  a  bag  of  sugar-plums  to 
fill  up  pauses  in  the  conversation.  The  "  vio- 
lent "  ending  seems  to  have  come  when  the  young 
lady's  father  discovered  the  secret  of  these  ex- 
cursions, and  doubtless  placed  her  under  more 
careful  control.  What  there  was  in  this  episode 
to  suggest,  or  in  any  way  influence.  Lady  Inger, 
I  cannot  understand.  Nevertheless  the  identifica- 
tion seems  quite  certain.  The  affair  had  a  charm- 
ing little  sequel.  During  the  days  of  their  love's 
young  dream,  Ibsen  treated  the  "  wild-flower " 
with  a  sort  of  shy  and  distant  chivalry  at  which 
the  wood-gods  must  have  smiled.  lie  avoided 
even  touching  her  hand,  and  always  addressed  her 
by  the  "  De "  (you)  of  formal  politeness.  But 
when  they  met  again  after  many  years,  he  a 
famous  poet  and  she  a  middle-aged  matron,  he 
instinctively  adopted  the  "  Du  "  (thou)  of  affec- 
tionate intimacy,  and  she  responded  in  kind.  He 
asked  her  whether  she  had  recognised  herself  in 
any  of  his  works,  and  she  replied :  "  I  really  don't 
know,  unless  it  be  in  the  parson's  wife  in  Lovers 
Comedy,  with  her  eight  children  and  her  perpet- 
ual knitting."  "  Ihsun  protested,"  says  Ilerr 
Paulsen,  in  whose  Samliv  mcd  Ihsen   a  full   ac- 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


count  of  the  episode  may  be  read.  It  is  inter- 
esting to  note  that  the  lady  did  not  recognise  her- 
self in  Eline  Gyldenlove,  any  more  than  we  can. 
It  must  have  been  less  than  a  year  after  the 
production  of  Lady  Inger  that  Ibsen  made  the 
acquaintance  of  the  lady  who  was  to  be  his  wife. 
Susanna  Dae  Thoresen  was  a  daughter  (by  his 
second  marriage)  of  Provost '  Thoresen,  of  Ber- 
gen, whose  third  wife,  Magdalene  Krag,  after- 
wards became  an  authoress  of  some  celebrity.  It 
is  recorded  that  Ibsen's  first  visit  to  the  Thoresen 
household  took  place  on  January  7,  1856,'  and 
that  on  that  occasion,  speakng  to  Susanna  Thore- 
sen, he  was  suddenly  moved  to  say  to  her:  "You 
are  now  Elina,  but  in  time  you  will  become  Lady 
Inger."  Twenty  years  later,  at  Christmas,  1876, 
he  gave  his  wife  a  copy  of  the  German  transla- 
tion of  Lady  Inger,  with  the  following  inscrip- 
tion on  the  fly-leaf : 

"This  book  is  by  right  indefeasible  thine, 
Who  in  spirit  art  born  of  the  Ostrat  line." 

In  Lady  Inger  Ibsen  has  chosen  a  theme  from 
the  very  darkest  hour  of  Norwegian  history. 
King  Sverre's  democratic  monarchy,  dating  from 

» Provost  ("Provst")  is  an  ecclesiastical  title,  roughly- 
equivalent  to  Dean. 

2  See  article  by  Dr.  Julius  Ellas  in  Die  neiie  Etmdscfiau, 
December,  11)06,  p.  1403.  Dr.  Brahm,  in  the  same  magazine 
(p.  1414),  writes  as  though  this  were  Ibsen's  first  meeting  with 
his  wife ;  and  a  note  by  Halvdan  Koht.  in  the  Norwegian  edi- 
tion of  Ibsen's  Letters,  .seems  to  beai'  out  this  view.  But  it 
would  appear  that  what  Pru  Ibsen  told  Dr.  Elias  was  that  on 
the  date  mentioned  Ibsen  for  "the  first  time  visited  at  her 
father's  house."  The  terms  of  the  anecdote  almost  compel  ub 
to  assume  tliat  he  had  previously  met  her  elsewhere.  It  seems 
almost  inconceivable  that  Ibsen,  of  all  people,  should  have 
made  such  a  speech  to  a  lady  on  their  very  first  meeting. 


INTRODUCTION. 


the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century,  had 
paralysed  the  old  ^Norwegian  nobility.  One  by 
one  the  great  families  died  out,  their  possessions 
being  concentrated  in  the  hands  of  the  few  sur- 
vivors, who  regarded  their  wealth  as  a  privilege 
unhampered  by  obligations.  At  the  beginning  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  then,  patriotism  and  pub- 
lic spirit  were  almost  dead  among  the  nobles, 
while  the  monarchy,  before  which  the  old  aris- 
tocracy had  fallen,  was  itself  dead,  or  rather 
merged  (since  1380)  in  the  Crown  of  Denmark. 
The  peasantry,  too,  had  long  ago  lost  all  effective 
voice  in  political  affairs;  so  that  ISTorway  lay 
prone  and  inert  at  the  mercy  of  her  Danish 
rulers.  It  is  at  the  moment  of  deepest  national 
degradation  that  Ibsen  has  placed  his  tragedy; 
and  the  degradation  was,  in  fact,  even  deeper 
than  he  represents  it,  for  the  longings  for  free- 
dom, the  stirrings  of  revolt,  which  form  the  mo- 
tive-power of  the  action,  are  invented,  or  at  any 
rate  idealised,  by  the  poet.  Fru  Inger  Ottis- 
datter  Gyldenlove  was,  in  fact,  the  greatest  per- 
sonage of  her  day  in  Norway.  She  was  the  best- 
born,  the  wealthiest,  and  probably  the  ablest 
woman  in  the  land.  At  the  time  when  Ibsen 
wrote,  little  more  than  this  seems  to  have  been 
known  of  her;  so  that  in  making  her  the  victim 
of  a  struggle  between  patriotic  duty  and  mater- 
nal love,  he  was  perhaps  poetising  in  the  absence 
of  positive  evidence,  rather  than  in  opposition 
to  it.  Subsequent  research,  unfortmiately,  has 
shown  that  Fru  Inger  was  but  little  troubled 
with  patriotic  aspirations.  She  was  a  hard  and 
grasping  woman,  ambitious  of  social  power  and 
predominance,  but  inaccessible,  or  nearly  so,   to 


LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


national  feeling.  It  was  from  sheer  social  am- 
bition, and  with  no  qualms  of  patriotic  con- 
science, that  she  married  her  daughters  to  Danish 
noblemen.  True,  she  lent  some  support  to  the 
insurrection  of  the  so-called  "  Dale-junker,"  a 
peasant  who  gave  himself  out  as  the  heir  of 
Sten  Sture,  a  former  regent  of  Sweden ;  but  there 
is  not  a  tittle  of  ground  for  making  this  pre- 
tender her  son.  He  might,  indeed,  have  become 
her  son-in-law,  for,  speculating  on  his  chances 
of  success,  she  had  betrothed  one  of  her  daugh- 
ters to  him.  Thus  the  Fru  Inger  of  Ibsen's  play 
is,  in  her  character  and  circumstances,  as  much 
a  creation  of  the  poet's  as  though  no  historic 
personage  of  that  name  had  ever  existed.  Olaf 
Skaktavl,  Nils  Lykke,  and  Eline  Gyldenlove 
are  also  historic  names;  but  with  them,  too, 
Ibsen  has  dealt  with  the  utmost  freedom.  The 
real  Nils  Lykke  was  married  in  1528  to  the  real 
Eline  Gyldenlove.  She  died  four  years  later, 
leaving  him  two  children ;  and  thereupon  he 
would  fain  have  married  her  sister  Lucia.  Such 
a  union,  however,  was  regarded  as  incestuous, 
and  the  lovers  failed  in  their  eifort  to  obtain  a 
special  dispensation.  Lucia  then  became  her 
brother-in-law's  mistress,  and  bore  him  a  son. 
But  the  ecclesiastical  law  was  in  those  days  not 
to  be  trifled  with;  Nils  Lykke  was  thrown  into 
prison  for  his  crime,  condemned,  and  killed  in 
his  dungeon,  in  the  year  of  grace  1535.  Thus 
there  was  a  tragedy  ready-made  in  Ibsen's  mate- 
rial, though  it  was  not  the  tragedy  he  chose  to 
write. 

The  Bergen  public  did  not  greatly  take  to  Lnily 
Inger,  and  it  was  performed,  in  its  novelty,  only 


INTRODUCTION. 


twice.  Nor  is  the  reason  far  to  seek.  The  ex- 
treme complexity  of  the  intrigue,  and  the  lack 
of  clear  guidance  through  its  mazes,  probably  left 
the  Bergen  audiences  no  less  puzzled  than  the 
London  audiences  who  saw  the  play  at  the  Scala 
Theatre  in  1906.'  It  is  a  play  which  can  be 
appi'eciated  only  by  spectators  who  know  it  be- 
forehand. Such  audiences  it  has  often  found  in 
Norway,  where  it  was  revived  at  the  Christiania 
Theatre  in  1875;  but  in  Denmark  and  Germany, 
though  it  has  been  produced  several  times,  it 
has  never  been  very  successful.  We  need  go 
no  further  than  the  end  of  the  first  act  to  un- 
derstand the  reason.  On  an  audience  which 
knows  nothing  of  the  play,  the  sudden  appear- 
ance of  a  "  Stranger,"  to  whose  identity  it  has 
not  the  slightest  clue,  can  produce  no  effect  save 
one  of  bewilderment.  To  rely  on  such  an  inci- 
dent for  what  was  evidently  intended  to  be  a 
thrilling  "  curtain,"  was  to  betray  extreme  inex- 
perience; and  this  single  trait  is  typical  of  much 
in  the  play.  Nevertheless  Lady  Inger  marks  a 
decisive  advance  in  Ibsen's  development.  It 
marks,  one  may  say,  the  birth  of  his  power  of 
invention.  He  did  not  as  yet  know  how  to  re- 
strain or  clarify  his  invention,  and  he  made 
clumsy  use  of  the  stock  devices  of  a  bad  school. 
But  he  had  once  for  all  entered  upon  that  course 
of  technical  training  which  it  took  him  five-and- 
twenty  years  to  complete.  He  was  learning  much 
that  he  was  afterwards  to  unlearn;  but  had  he 

'  Stage  Society  performances,  January  28  and  29,  1000. 
Lady  Inger  was  played  by  Miss  Edytli  Olive,  Elina  by  Miss 
Alice  Crawford,  Nils  Lykke  by  Mr.  Henry  Ainley,  Olaf  Skak- 
tavl  by  Mr.  Alfred  Brydone,  and  Nils  Btensson  iDy  Mr.  Har- 
court  Williams. 


LADY      INGEU      OF      OSTRAT. 


not  undergone  this  apprenticeship,  he  would 
never  have  been  the  master  he  ultimately  became. 
When  Ibsen  entered  upon  his  duties  at  the 
Bergen  Theatre,  the  influence  of  Eugene  Scribe 
and  his  imitators  was  at  its  very  height.  Of  the 
145  plays  produced  during  his  tenure  of  office, 
more  than  half  (seventy-five)  were  French, 
twenty-one  being  by  Scribe  himself,  and  at  least 
half  the  remainder  by  adepts  of  his  school,  Bay- 
ard, Dumanoir,  Melesville,  &c.  It  is  to  this 
school  that  Ibsen,  in  Lady  Inger,  proclaims  his 
adherence ;  and  he  did  not  finally  shake  off  its 
influence  until  he  wrote  the  Third  Act  of  A 
DolVs  House  in  1879.  Although  the  romantic 
environment  of  the  play,  and  the  tragic  intensity 
of  the  leading  character,  tend  to  disgnise  the  re- 
lationship, there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Lody  Inger 
is,  in  essence,  simply  a  French  drama  of  intrigue, 
constructed  after  the  method  of  Scribe,  as  exem- 
plified in  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  Les  Contes  de  la 
Reine  de  Navarre,^  and  a  dozen  other  French 
plays,  with  the  staging  of  which  the  poet  was  then 
occupied.  It  might  seem  that  the  figure  of  Elina, 
brooding  over  the  thought  of  her  dead  sister, 
coffined  in  the  vault  below  the  banqueting-hall, 
belonged  rather  to  German  romanticism ;  but 
there  are  plenty  of  traces  of  German  romanticism 
even  in  the  French  plays  with  which  the  good 
people  of  Bergen  were  regaled.  For  the  sugges- 
tion of  grave-vaults  and  coffined  heroines,  for 
example,  Ibsen  need  have  gone  no  further  than 
Dumas's   Catharine  Howard,  which  he  produced 

'  These  two  plays  were  produced,  respectively,  in  March  and 
October,  18.54,  at  the  very  time  when  Ibsen  mnst  have  been 
planning  and  composing  Lady  Inger. 


INTRODUCTION. 


in  March,  1853.  I  do  not,  however,  pretend  that 
his  romantic  colouring  came  to  him  from  France. 
It  came  to  him,  doubtless,  from  Germany,  by 
way  of  Denmark.  My  point  is  that  the  conduct 
of  the  intrigue  in  Lady  Inger  shows  the  most 
unmistakable  marks  of  his  study  of  the  great 
French  plot-manipulators.  Its  dexterity  and  its 
artificiality  alike  are  neither  German  nor  Dan- 
ish, but  French.  Ibsen  had  learnt  the  great  secret 
of  Scribe — the  secret  of  dramatic  movement. 
The  play  is  full  of  those  ingenious  complications, 
mistakes  of  identity,  and  rapid  turns  of  fortune 
by  which  Scribe  enchained  the  interest  of  his 
audiences.  Its  central  theme — a  mother  plung- 
ing into  intrigue  and  crime  for  the  advancement 
of  her  son,  only  to  find  that  her  son  himself  has 
been  her  victim — is  as  old  as  Greek  tragedy.  The 
secondary  story,  too — that  of  Elina's  wild  infatu- 
ation for  the  betrayer  and  practically  the  mur- 
derer of  her  sister — could  probably  be  paralleled 
in  the  ballad  literature  of  Scotland,  Germany,  or 
Denmark,  and  might,  indeed,  have  been  told,  in 
verse  or  prose,  by  Sir  Walter  Scott.  But  these 
very  un-Parisian  elements  are  handled  in  a  fun- 
damentally Parisian  fashion,  and  Ibsen  is  clearly 
fascinated,  for  the  time,  by  the  ideal  of  what  was 
afterwards  to  be  known  as  the  "  well-made  play." 
The  fact  that  the  result  is  in  reality  an  ill-made 
play  in  no  way  invalidates  this  theory.  It  is 
perhaps  the  final  condemnation  of  the  well-made 
play  that  in  nine  cases  out  of  ton — and  even  in 
the  hands  of  far  more  experienced  playwrights 
than  the  young  Bergen  "  theatre-poet " — it  is 
apt  to  prove  ill-made  after  all. 

Far  be  it  from  me,  however,  to  speak  in  pure 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


disparagement  of  Lady  Inger.  With  all  its  de- 
fects, it  seems  to  me  manifestly  the  work  of  a 
great  poet — the  only  one  of  Ibsen's  plays  prior  to 
The  Vikings  at  Helgeland  of  which  this  can  be 
said.  It  may  be  that  early  impressions  mislead 
me;  but  I  still  cannot  help  seeing  in  Lady  Ingcr 
a  figure  of  truly  tragic  grandeur;  in  Nils  Lykke 
one  of  the  few  really  seductive  seducers  in  lit- 
erature; and  in  many  passages  of  the  dialogue, 
the  touch  of  a  master  hand. 

W.  A. 


THE   FEAST  AT   SOLHOUG. 


INTKODUCTION* 

Exactly  a  year  after  the  production  of  Lady 
Inger  of  Ostrdt — that  is  to  say  on  the  "  Founda- 
tion Day "  of  the  Berg'en  Theatre,  January  2, 
1856 — The  Feast  at  Solhoug  was  produced.  The 
poet  himself  has  written  its  history  in  full  in 
the  Preface  to  the  second  edition  (see  p.  183). 
The  only  comment  that  need  be  made  upon  his 
rejoinder  to  his  critics  has  been  made,  with  per- 
fect fairness  as  it  seems  to  me,  by  George  Brandes 
in  the  following  passage : '  "  No  one  who  is  un- 
acquainted with  the  Scandinavian  languages  can 
fully  understand  the  charm  that  the  style  and 
melody  of  the  old  ballads  exercise  upon  the  Scan- 
dinavian mind.  The  beautiful  ballads  and  songs 
of  Des  Knahen  Wunderhorn  have  perhaps  had 
a  similar  power  over  German  minds ;  but,  as  far 
as  I  am  aware,  no  German  poet  has  ever  suc- 
ceeded in  inventing  a  metre  suitable  for  dra- 
matic purposes,  which  yet  retained  the  mediaeval 
ballad's  sonorous  swing  and  rich  aroma.  The 
explanation  of  the  powerful  impression  produced 

*  Ibsen  and  Bjorruson.     London,  Heinemann,  1899,  p.  88. 

♦  Copyright,  1908,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons, 
xxxiii 


THE      FEAST      AT     SOLHOUG. 


in  its  day  by  Ilenrik  ITcrtz's  Svend  Dyring's 
Bouse  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  in  it,  for 
the  first  time,  the  problem  was  solved  of  how  to 
fashion  a  metre  akin  to  that  of  the  heroic  bal- 
lads, a  metre  possessing  as  great  mobility  as  the 
verse  of  the  Niehelungenlied,  along  with  a  dra- 
matic value  not  inferior  to  that  of  the  iambic 
pentameter.  Ilenrik  Ibsen,  it  is  true,  has  justly 
pointed  out  that,  as  regards  the  mutual  relations 
of  the  principal  characters,  Svend  Dyring's 
House  owes  more  to  Kleist's  Kdthchen  von  Heil- 
hronn  than  The  Feast  at  Sollioug  owes  to  Svend 
Dyring's  House.  But  the  fact  remains  that  the 
versified  parts  of  the  dialogue  of  both  The  Feast 
at  Solhoug  and  Olaf  Liliehrans  are  written  in 
that  imitation  of  the  tone  and  style  of  the  heroic 
ballad,  of  which  Hertz  was  the  happily-inspired 
originator.  There  seems  to  me  to  be  no  depreci- 
ation whatever  of  Ibsen  in  the  assertion  of 
Hertz's  right  to  rank  as  his  model.  Even  the 
greatest  must  have  learnt  from  some  one." 

The  question  is,  to  put  it  in  a  nutshell :  Sup- 
posing Hertz  had  never  adapted  the  ballad  meas- 
ures to  dramatic  purposes,  would  Ibsen  have 
written  The  Feast  at  Solhoug,  at  any  rate  in  its 
present  form  ?  I  think  we  must  answer  :  Almost 
certainly,  no. 

But  Avhile  the  influence  of  Danish  lyrical  ro- 
manticism is  apparent  in  the  style  of  the  play, 
the  structure,  as  it  seems  to  me,  shows  no  less 
clearly  that  influence  of  the  French  plot-manipu- 
lators which  we  found  so  unmistakably  at  work 
in  Lady  Inger.  Despite  its  lyrical  dialogue. 
The  Feast  at  Solhoug  has  that  crispiness  of 
dramatic  action  which  marks  the  French  plays 


INTRODUCTION. 


of  the  period.  It  may  indeed  be  called  Scribe's 
Bataille  de  Dames  writ  tragic.  Here,  as  in  tlie 
Bataille  de  Dames  (one  of  the  earliest  plays  pro- 
duced under  Ibsen's  supervision),  we  have  the 
rivalry  of  an  older  and  a  young'er  woman  for  the 
love  of  a  man  who  is  proscribed  on  an  unjust 
accusation,  and  pursued  by  the  emissaries  of  the 
royal  power.  One  might  even,  though  this  would 
be  foi'cing  the  point,  find  an  analogy  in  the  fact 
that  the  elder  woman  (in  both  plays  a  strong 
and  determined  character)  has  in  Scribe's  com- 
edy a  cowardly  suitor,  while  in  Ibsen's  tragedy, 
or  melodrama,  she  has  a  cowardly  husband.  In 
every  other  respect  the  plays  are  as  dissimilar  as 
possible;  yet  it  seems  to  me  far  from  unlikely 
that  an  unconscious  reminiscence  of  the  Bataille 
de  Dames  may  have  contributed  to  the  shaping 
of  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  in  Ibsen's  mind.  But 
more  significant  than  any  resemblance  of  theme 
is  the  similarity  of  Ibsen's  whole  method  to  that 
of  the  French  school — the  way,  for  instance,  in 
which  misunderstandings  are  kept  up  through  a 
careful  avoidance  of  the  use  of  proper  names, 
and  the  way  in  which  a  cup  of  poison,  prepared 
for  one  person,  comes  into  the  hands  of  another 
person,  is,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  drunk  by  no  one, 
but  occasions  the  acutest  agony  to  the  would-be 
poisoner.  All  this  ingenious  dovetailing  of  inci- 
dents and  working-up  of  misunderstandings, 
Ibsen  unquestionably  learned  from  the  French. 
The  French  language,  indeed,  is  the  only  one 
which  has  a  word — quiproqvo — to  indicate  the 
class  of  misunderstanding  which,  from  Lady 
Inger  down  to  The  League  of  Youth,  Ibsen  em- 
ployed without  scruple. 


THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG. 


Ibsen's  first  visit  to  the  home  of  his  future 
wife  took  place  five  days  after  the  production  of 
The  Feast  at  Solhoug.  It  seems  doubtful  whether 
this  was  actually  his  first  meeting  with  her ; ' 
but  at  any  rate  we  can  scarcely  suppose  that  he 
knew  her  during  the  previous  summer,  when 
he  was  writing  his  play.  It  is  a  curious  coin- 
cidence, then,  that  he  should  have  found  in 
Susanna  Thoresen  and  her  sister  Marie  very 
much  the  same  contrast  of  characters  which  had 
occupied  him  in  his  first  dramatic  effort,  Cati- 
lina,  and  which  had  formed  the  main  subject 
of  the  play  he  had  just  produced.  It  is  less  won- 
derful that  the  same  contrast  should  so  often 
recur  in  his  later  works,  even  down  to  John  Ga- 
briel BorJcman.  Ibsen  was  greatly  attached  to 
his  gentle  and  retiring  sister-in-law,  who  died 
■unmarried  in  1874. 

The  Feast  at  Solhoug  has  been  translated  by 
Miss  Morison  and  myself,  only  because  no  one 
else  could  be  found  to  undertake  the  task.  We 
have  done  our  best ;  but  neither  of  us  lays  claim 
to  any  great  metrical  skill,  and  the  light  move- 
ment of  Ibsen's  verse  is  often,  if  not  always, 
rendered  in  a  sadly  halting  fashion.  It  is,  how- 
ever, impossible  to  exaggerate  the  irregularity 
of  the  verse  in  the  original,  or  its  defiance  of 
strict  metrical  law.  The  normal  line  is  one  of 
four  accents ;  but  when  this  is  said,  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  arrive  at  any  further  generalisa- 
tion. There  is  a  certain  lilting  melody  in  many 
passages,  and  the  whole  play  has  not  unfairly 
been  said  to  possess  1he  charm  of  a  northern  sum- 

•  See  note,  p.  xxvL 


INTRODUCTION. 


mer  night,  in  which  the  glimmer  of  twilight 
gives  place  only  to  the  gleam  of  morning.  But 
in  the  main  (though  much  better  than  its  suc- 
cessor, Olaf  Liliekrans)  it  is  the  weakest  thing 
that  Ibsen  admitted  into  the  canon  of  his  works. 
He  wrote  it  in  1870  as  "  a  study  which  I  now 
disown " ;  and  had  he  continued  in  that  frame 
of  mind,  the  world  would  scarcely  have  quarrelled 
with  his  judgment.  At  worst,  then,  my  collabo- 
rator and  I  cannot  be  accused  of  marring  a  mas- 
terpiece; but  for  which  assurance  we  should 
probably  have  shrunk  from  the  attempt. 

W.  A. 


LOVE'S    COMEDY. 


INTEODUCTION. 

Kwrlighedens  Eomedie  was  published  at 
Christiania  in  1862.  The  polite  world — so  far 
as  such  a  thing  existed  at  that  time  in  the  North- 
ern capital — received  it  with  an  outburst  of  in- 
dignation not  now  entirely  easy  to  understand. 
It  has  indeed  faults  enough.  The  character- 
drawing  is  often  crude,  the  action,  though  full 
of  effective  by-play,  extremely  slight,  and  the 
sensational  climax  has  little  relation  to  hiunan 
nature  as  exhibited  in  Nonvay,  or  out  of  it,  at 
that  or  any  other  time.  But  the  sting  lay  in 
the  unflattering  veracity  of  the  piece  as  a  whole; 
in  the  merciless  portrayal  of  the  trivialities  of 
persons,  or  classes,  high  in  their  own  esteem;  in 
the  unexampled  effrontery  of  bringing  a  clergy- 
man upon  the  stage.  All  these  have  long  since 
passed  in  Scandinavia,  into  the  category  of  the 
things  which  people  take  with  their  Ibsen  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  the  play  is  welcomed  with 
delight  by  every  Scandinavian  audience.  But  in 
1862  the  matter  was  serious,  and  Ibsen  meant  it 
to  be  so. 

For  they  were  years  of  ferment — those  six  or 


xl 


LOVE    S      COMEDY. 


seven  which  inten^cncd  between  his  return  to 
Christiania  from  Bergen  in  1857,  and  his  de- 
parture for  Italy  in  1864.  As  director  of  the 
newly  founded  "  Norwegian  Theatre,"  Ibsen  was 
a  prominent  member  of  the  little  knot  of  bril- 
liant young  writers  who  led  the  nationalist  revolt 
against  Danish  literary  tradition,  then  still  domi- 
nant in  well-to-do,  and  especially  in  official, 
Christiania.  Well-to-do  and  official  Christiania 
met  the  revolt  with  contempt.  Under  such  con- 
ditions, the  specific  literary  battle  of  the  Nor- 
wegian with  the  Dane  easily  developed  into  the 
eternal  warfare  of  youthful  idealism  with  "  re- 
spectability "  and  convention.  Ibsen  had  already 
started  work  upon  the  greatest  of  his  Norse  His- 
tories— The  Pretenders.  Bvit  history  was  for 
him  little  more  than  material  for  the  illustration 
of  modern  problems ;  and  he  turned  with  zest 
from  the  task  of  breathing  his  own  spirit  into  the 
stubborn  mould  of  the  thirteenth  century,  to 
hold  up  the  satiric  mirror  to  the  suburban  draw- 
ing-rooms of  Christiania,  and  to  the  varied  phe- 
nomena current  there, — and  in  suburban  draw- 
ing-rooms elsewhere, — under  the  name  of  Love. 

Yet  Lovers  Comedy  is  much  more  than  a  satire, 
and  its  exuberant  humour  has  a  bitter  core;  the 
laughter  that  rings  through  it  is  the  harsh,  im- 
placable laughter  of  Carlyle.  His  criticism  of 
commonplace  love-making  is  at  first  sight  harm- 
less and  ordinary  enough.  The  ceremonial  for- 
malities of  the  continental  Verlolning,  the  shrill 
raptures  of  aunts  and  cousins  over  the  engaged 
pair,  the  satisfied  smile  of  enterprising  mater- 
familias  as  she  reckons  up  the  tale  of  daughters 
or  of  nieces   safely  married   off  under  her  aus- 


INTRODUCTION. 


Xli 


pices;  or,  again,  the  embarrassments  incident  to 
a  prolonged  Brautstand  following  a  hasty  woo- 
ing, the  deadly  effect  of  familiarity  upon  a  shal- 
low affection,  and  the  anxious  efforts  to  save  the 
appearance  of  romance  when  its  zest  has  de- 
parted— all  these  things  had  yielded  such  "  com- 
edy "  as  they  possess  to  manj'  others  before  Ibsen, 
and  an  Ibsen  was  not  needed  to  evoke  it.  But 
if  we  ask  what,  then,  is  the  right  way  from  which 
these  "  cosmic  "  personages  in  their  several  fash- 
ions diverge ;  what  is  the  condition  which  will 
secure  courtship  from  ridicule,  and  marriage 
from  disillusion,  Ibsen  abruptly  parts  company 
with  all  his  predecessors.  " '  Of  course,'  reply 
the  rest  in  chorus,  '  a  deep  and  sincere  love  ' ; — 
'  together,'  add  some,  '  with  prudent  good  sense.'  " 
The  prudent  good  sense  Ibsen  allows;  but  he 
couples  with  it  the  startling  paradox  that  the  first 
condition  of  a  happy  marriage  is  the  absence  of 
love,  and  the  first  condition  of  an  enduring  love 
the  absence  of  marriage. 

The  student  of  the  latter-day  Ibsen  is  naturally 
somewhat  taken  aback  to  find  the  grim  poet  of 
Doubt,  whose  task  it  seems  to  be  to  apply  a  cor- 
rosive criticism  to  modern  institutions  in  gen- 
eral and  to  marriage  in  particular,  gravely  de- 
fending the  "  marriage  of  convenience."  And 
his  amazement  is  not  diminished  by  the  sense 
that  the  author  of  this  plea  for  the  loveless  mar- 
riage, which  poets  have  at  all  times  scorned  and 
derided,  was  himself  beyond  question  a  poet, 
ardent,  brilliant,  and  young,  and  himself,  what 
is  more,  quite  recently  and  beyond  question  hap- 
pily, married.  The  truth  is  that  there  are  two 
men  in  Ibsen — an  idealist,  exalted  to  the  verge 


xlii 


LOVE    S      COMEDY. 


of  sentimentality,  and  a  critic,  hard,  inexorable, 
remorseless,  to  the  verge  of  cynicism.  What  we 
call  his  "  social  philosophy  "  is  a  modus  vivendi 
arrived  at  between  them.  Both  agree  in  repudi- 
ating "  marriage  for  love  " ;  but  the  idealist  re- 
pudiates it  in  the  name  of  love,  the  critic  in  the 
name  of  marriage.  Love,  for  the  idealist  Ibsen, 
is  a  passion  which  loses  its  virtue  when  it 
reaches  its  goal,  which  inspires  only  while  it 
aspires,  and  flags  bewildered  when  it  attains. 
Marriage,  for  the  critic  Ibsen,  is  an  institution 
beset  with  pitfalls  into  which  those  are  surest  to 
step  who  enter  it  blinded  with  love.  In  the  lat- 
ter dramas  the  tragedy  of  married  life  is  com- 
monly generated  by  other  forms  of  blindness — 
the  childish  innocence  of  Nora,  the  maidenly 
ignorance  of  Helena  Alving,  neither  of  whom 
married  precisely  "  for  love " ;  here  it  is  blind 
Love  alone  who,  to  the  jealous  eye  of  the  critic, 
plays  the  part  of  the  Serpent  in  the  Edens  of 
wedded  bliss.  There  is,  it  is  clear,  an  element 
of  unsolved  contradiction  in  Ibsen's  thought; — 
Love  is  at  once  so  precious  and  so  deadly,  a  pos- 
session so  glorious  that  all  other  things  in  life 
are  of  less  worth,  and  yet  capable  of  producing 
only  disastrously  illusive  effects  upon  those  who 
have  entered  into  the  relations  to  which  it 
prompts.  But  with  Ibsen — and  it  is  a  grave 
intellectual  defect — there  is  an  absolute  antag- 
onism between  spirit  and  form.  An  institution 
is  always  with  him,  a  shackle  for  the  free  life 
of  souls,  not  an  organ  through  which  they  attain 
expression;  and  since  the  institution  of  marriage 
cannot  but  be,  there  remains  as  the  only  logical 
solution    that    which    he    enjoins — to    keep    the 


INTRODUCTION.  xliii 


soul's  life  out  of  it.  To  "  those  about  to  marr;y," 
Ibsen  therefore  says  in  effect,  "  Be  sure  you  are 
not  in  love ! "  And  to  those  who  are  in  love  he 
says,  "Part!" 

It  is  easy  to  understand  the  irony  with  which 
a  man  who  thouprht  thus  of  love  contemplated 
the  business  of  "  love-making,"  and  the  cere- 
monial discipline  of  Continental  courtship.  The 
whole  unnumbered  tribe  of  wooing  and  plighted 
lovers  were  for  him  unconscious  actors  in  a 
world-comedy  of  Love's  contriving — naive  fools 
of  fancy,  passionately  weaving  the  cords  that  are 
to  strangle  passion.  Comedy  like  this  cannot  be 
altogether  gay;  and  as  each  fresh  romance  decays 
into  routine,  and  each  aspiring  passion  goes  out 
under  the  spell  of  a  vulgar  environment,  or  sub- 
mits to  the  bitter  salvation  of  a  final  parting,  the 
ringing  laughter  grows  harsh  and  hollow,  and 
notes  of  ineffable  sadness  escape  from  the  poet's 
Stoic  self-restraint. 

Ibsen  had  grown  up  in  a  school  which  culti- 
vated the  romantic,  piquant,  picturesque  in 
style;  which  ran  riot  in  wit,  in  vivacious  and 
brilliant  imagery,  in  resonant  rhythms  and  tell- 
ing double  rhymes.  It  must  be  owned  that  this 
was  not  the  happiest  school  for  a  dramatist,  nor 
can  Love's  Comedy  be  regarded,  in  the  matter 
of  style,  as  other  than  a  risky  experiment  which 
nothing  but  the  sheer  dramatic  force  of  an  Ibsen 
could  have  carried  through.  As  it  is,  there  are 
palpable  fluctuations,  discrepancies  of  manner; 
the  realism  of  treatment  often  provokes  a  real- 
ism of  style  out  of  keeping  with  the  lyric  afflatus 
of  the  verse;  and  v.-e  pnps  with  little  warning 
from  the   barest    colloquial   prose   to   strains   of 


xliv 


LOVE    S      COMEDY. 


hig'h-wrouglit  poetie  fancy.  ^Nevertheless,  the 
style,  with  all  its  inequalities,  becomes  in  Ibsen's 
hands  a  singularly  plastic  medium  of  dramatic 
expression.  The  marble  is  too  richly  veined  for 
ideal  sculpture,  but  it  takes  the  print  of  life. 
The  wit,  exuberant  as  it  is,  does  not  coruscate 
indiscriminately  upon  all  lips;  and  it  has  many 
shades  and  varieties — caustic,  ironical,  imagina- 
tive, playful,  passionate — which  take  their  tem- 
per from  the  speaker's  mood. 

The  present  version  of  the  play  retains  the 
metres  of  the  original,  and  follows  it  in  general 
line  for  line.  For  a  long  passage,  occupying  sub- 
stantially the  first  twenty  pages,  the  translator 
is  indebted  to  the  editor  of  the  present  work; 
and  two  other  passages — Falk's  tirades  on  pp. 
58  and  100 — result  from  a  fusion  of  versions 
made  independently  by  us  both. 

C.  H.  H. 


LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

(1855) 


CHARACTERS 

Lady  Inger  OxTisDAUCiirrKU   Ro.mek,   widoiv  of  High 

Steward  Nils  Gijldenlovc. 
Elina  Gyldeni.ove,  Jier  danglifer. 
Nils  Lykke,  Danish  knight  and  ronnciUor. 
Olai^  Skaktavl,  an  outlawed  Norwegian  Jiohle. 
Nils  Stensson. 

Jens  Biei.ke,  Swedish  commander. 
BiORN,  majordo7no  at  Ostrat. 
Finn,  a  servant. 
EiNAU  II UK,  bailiff  at  Ostrat. 
Servants,  i)easants,  and  Swedish  men-at-arms. 


The  action  takes  ])lace  at  Ostrat  Manor,  on  the  Trond- 
Jiiein  Fiord,  in  the  year  ISSS. 

[Pronunciation  of  N.\mes. — Ostrat  =  O.f/ro/;  FJiiia 
(Norwegian,  Elinc)  =Kleena;  Stcnsson  =Sfa;/ns(m;  Biorn  ^ 
Byorn;  ittwiiW'wWie^Yens  liyelke;  Huk  =/ioo/i'.  The  jr's 
ill  "  Injijer  "  and  in  "  Gykiciilove "'  are,  of  course,  hard.  The 
final  e's  and  tlie  o's  pronounced  unich  as  in  German.] 


LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

DRAMA  IN  FIVE  ACTS 


ACT    FIRST 


A  room  at  Ostrat.  Through  an  open  door  in  the 
hack,  the  Banquet  Hall  is  seen  in  faint 
moonlight,  which  shines  fitfully  through  a 
deep  how-window  in  the  opposite  wall.  To 
the  right,  an  entrance-door ;  further  for- 
ward, a  curtained  jvindorv.  On  the  left,  a 
door  leading  to  the  inner  rooms;  further 
foryvard  a  large  open  fireplace,  which  casts 
a  glow  over  the  room.  It  is  a  stormy  even- 
ing. 

BioRN  and  Fixx  are  sitting  hy  the  fireplace. 
The  latter  is  occupied  in  polishing  a  hel- 
met. Several  pieces  of  armour  lie  near 
them,  along  with  a  sword  and  shield. 

Finn. 

[After  a  pause.]      Who  was  Knut  ^  Alfson? 

BlOUN. 

My   Lad}'   says   lie   was   thr   last  of   Norway's 
kiiiglitliood. 

1  I'ronoiiiico  Knuot. 
3 


LADY   INGER   CF   OSTRAT.    [aCT 


Finn. 
And  the  Danes  killed  him  at  Oslo-fiord? 

BlORN. 

If  you  know  not  that,  ask  any  child  of  five. 

Finn. 

So  Knut  Alfson  was  the  last  of  our  knight- 
hood? And  now  he's  dead  and  gone!  [Holds 
up  the  hebnet.]  AVell,  thou  must  e'en  be  con- 
tent to  hang  scoured  and  bright  in  the  Banquet 
Hall ;  for  what  art  thou  now  but  an  empty  nut- 
shell ?  The  kernel — the  worms  have  eaten  that 
many  a  winter  agone. 

What  say  you,  Biorn — may  not  one  call  Nor- 
way's land  an  emjjty  nut-shell,  even  like  the 
helmet  here ;  bright  without,  worm-eaten  within  ? 

Biorn. 
Hold   your  peace,   and   mind   your   task!- — Is 
the  helmet  ready  ? 

Finn. 
It  shines  like  silver  in  the  moonlight. 

Biorn. 
Then  put  it  by. — See  here;   scrape  the  rust 
off  the  sword. 

Finn. 

[Turning  the  srvord  over  and  examining  t7.] 
Is  it  worth  while  ? 

Biorn. 
What  mean   von  ? 


ACT    I.J        LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.  t> 


Finn. 

The  edge  is  gone. 

BlORN. 

What's  that  to  you?  Give  it  me. — Here,  take 
the  shield. 

Finn. 
[As  before.^      There  is  no  grip  to  it! 

BlORN. 

\Mutters.^^      Let  me  get  a  grip  on  you 

[Finn  hums  to  himself  for  a  while. 

BlORN. 

What  now.^ 

Finn. 

An  empty  hehnet,  a  sword  with  no  edge,  a 
shield  with  no  grip — so  it  has  all  come  to  that. 
Who  can  blame  Lady  Inger  if  she  leaves  such 
weapons  to  hang  scoured  and  polished  on  the 
walls,  instead  of  rusting  them  in  Danish  blood.'' 

BlORN. 

Folly!     Is  there  not  peace  in  the  land.'' 

Finn. 
Peace  ?  Ay,  when  the  peasant  has  shot  away 
his  last  arrow,  and  the  wolf  has  reft  the  last 
lamb  from  the  fold,  then  is  there  peace  between 
them.  But  'tis  a  strange  friendship.  Well,  well ; 
let  that  pass.  'Tis  fitting,  as  I  said,  that  the 
liarness  hang  bright  in  the  hall;  for  you  know 


LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.        [aCTI. 


the  old  saw:  "  Call  none  a  man  but  the  knightly 
man."  So  noAV  that  we  have  never  a  knight  in 
the  landj  we  have  never  a  man;  and  where  no 
man  is,  there  must  women  order  things;  there- 
fore  

BlORN. 

Therefore— therefore  I  bid  you  hold  your 
foul  prate!  [Rises. 

The  evening  wears  on.  Enough ;  you  may 
hang  the  helmet  and  armour  in  the  hall  again. 

Finn. 

[In  a  low  vo^ce.^^  Nay,  best  let  it  be  till  to- 
morrow. 

BlORN. 

What,  do  you  fear  the  dark? 

Finn. 

Not  by  day.  And  if  so  be  I  fear  it  at  even, 
I  am  not  the  only  one.  Ah,  you  may  look;  I 
tell  you  in  the  housefolk's  room  there  is  talk  of 
many  things.  [Loiver.^  They  say  that,  night 
by  niglit,  a  tall  figure,  clad  in  black,  walks  the 
Banquet  Hall. 

BlORN. 

Old  wives'  tales  ! 

Finn. 

Ah,  but  they  all  swear  'tis  true. 

BlORN. 

That  I  well  believe. 


ACT  I.]    LADY   INGF:R   OF   OSTRAT.         7 

Finn. 
The    strangest    of    all    is    that    Lady    Inger 
thinks  the  same 

BlORN. 

[Starting.]  Lady  Inger?  What  does  she 
think  ? 

Finn. 
Wliat  Lady  Inger  thinks  ?  I  warrant  few  can 
tell  that.  But  sure  it  is  that  she  has  no  rest 
in  her.  See  you  not  how  day  by  day  she  grows 
tliinner  and  paler .^  [Looks  keenly  at  him.] 
They  say  she  never  sleeps — and  that  it  is  be- 
cause of  the  black  figure 

[JVhile  he  is  speaking,  Elina  Gyldenlove 
has  appeared  in  the  half-open  door  on 
the  left.  She  stops  and  listens,  unob- 
served. 

BlORN. 

And  you  believe  such  follies.'' 

Finn. 

Well,  half  and  half.  There  be  folk,  too,  that 
read  things  another  way.  But  that  is  pure 
malice,  I'll  be  bound. — Hearken,  Biorn — know 
you  tlie  song  that  is  going  round  the  country? 

Biorn. 
A  song? 

Finn. 

Ay,  'tis  on  all  folks'  lips.  'Tis  a  shameful 
scurril  thing,  for  sure ;  yet  it  goes  prettily.  Just 
listen:  [5iH^«  »n  a  low  voice. 


8  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.         [aCT    I. 


Dame  Inger  sitteth  in  Ostrat  fair. 

She  wraps  her  in  costly  furs — 

She  decks  her  in  velvet  and  ermine  and  vair, 

Red  gold  are  the  beads  that  she  twines  in  her 

hair — 
But  small  peace  in  that  soul  of  hers. 

Dame  Inger  hath  sold  her  to  Denmark's  lord. 
She    bringeth    her    folk    'neath    the    stranger's 

yoke — 
In  guerdon  whereof — 

[BiORN  enraged,  seizes  him  by  the  throat. 

Elina    Gyldenlove    withdraws    without 

having  been  seen. 

BlORN. 

I  will  send  you  guerdonless  to  the  foul  fiend, 
if  you  prate  of  Lady  Inger  but  one  unseemly 
word  more. 

Finn. 
[Breaking    from    his    grasp.^       Why — did    / 
make  the  song.'' 

[The   blast   of  a   horn   is   heard   from   the 
right. 

BlORN. 

Hark — what  is  that.^ 

Finn. 
A  horn.     Then  there  come  guests  to-night. 

BlORN. 

[At  the  window.]  They  are  opening  the  gate. 
I  hear  the  clatter  of  hoofs  in  the  courtyard.  It 
must  be  a  knight. 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


Finn. 
A  knight?     Nay,  that  can  scarce  be. 

BlORN. 

Why  not? 

Finn. 

Did  you  not  say  yourself:  the  last  of  our 
knighthood  is  dead  and  gone? 

[Goes  out  to  the  right. 

BlORN. 

The  accursed  knave,  with  his  prying  and  peer- 
ing !  What  avails  all  my  striving  to  hide  and 
hush  things  ?  They  whisper  of  her  even 
now — ;    soon    all    men    will    be    shouting    aloud 

that 

Elina. 

[Comes  in  again  through  the  door  on  the  left; 
looks  round  her,  and  says  rvith  suppressed  emo- 
tion :\     Are  you  alone,  Biorn? 

BlORN. 

Is  it  you,  Mistress  Elina? 

Elina. 
Come,  Biorn,  tell  me  one  of  your  stories;   I 
know  you  can  tell  others  than  those  that 

BlORN. 

A  story?     Now — so  late  in  the  evening ? 

Elina. 
If  you  covmt  from  the  time  when  it  grew  dark 
at  Ostrat,  then  'tis  late  indeed. 


10  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCTI. 


BlORN. 


WTiat  ails  you  ?  Has  aught  crossed  you  ? 
You  seem  so  restless. 

Elina. 
May  be  so. 

BlORN. 

There  is  something  amiss.  I  have  hardly 
known  you  this  half  year  past. 

Elina. 
Bethink  you:  tljis  half  year  past  my  dearest 
sister  Lucia  has  been  sleeping  in  the  vault  below. 

BlORN. 

That  is  not  all,  jNIistress  Elina — it  is  not  that 
alone  that  makes  you  now  thoughtful  and  white 
and  silent,  now  restless  and  ill  at  ease,  as  you 
are  to-night. 

Elina. 

Not  that  alone,  you  think?  And  wherefore 
not.^  Was  she  not  gentle  and  pure  and  fair  as 
a  summer  night  .^  Biorn, — I  tell  you,  Lucia 
was  dear  to  me  as  my  life.  Have  you  forgotten 
how  many  a  time,  when  we  were  children,  we 
sat  on  your  knee  in  the  winter  evenings.''  You 
sang  songs  to  us,  and  told  us  tales 

BlORN. 

Ay,  then  you  were  blithe  and  gay. 

Elina. 
Ah,  then,  Biorn  !     Then  I  lived  a  glorious  life 
in  fable-land,  and  in  my  own  imaginings.      Can 


ACT    I.]        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  11 


it  be  that  the  sea-strand  was  naked  then  as  now? 
If  it  was  so,  I  knew  it  not.  'Twas  there  I  loved 
to  go  weaving  all  my  fair  romances ;  my  heroes 
came  from  afar  and  sailed  again  across  the  sea; 
I  lived  in  their  midst,  and  set  forth  with  them 
when  they  sailed  away.  [Sinks  on  a  chair.] 
Now  I  feel  so  faint  and  weary ;  I  can  live  no 
longer  in  my  tales.  They  are  only — tales. 
[Rising,  vehemently.]  Biorn,  know  you  what 
has  made  me  sick  ?  A  truth ;  a  hateful,  hateful 
truth,  that  gnaws  me  day  and  night. 

BlOHN. 

What  mean  you.'' 

Elina. 
Do  you  remember  how  sometimes  you  would 
give    us    good    counsel    and    wise    saws }      Sister 
Lucia  followed  them;  but  I — ah,  well-a-day ! 

Biorn. 
[Consoling  her.]      Well,  well ! 


Elina. 
I  know  it — I  was  proud,  overweening !     In  all 
our  games,  I  would  still  be  the  Queen,  because 
I    was    the   tallest,   the    fairest,   the   wisest!      I 
know  it ! 

Biorn. 
That  is  true. 

Elina. 
Once  you  took  me  by  the  hand  and  looked  ear- 
nestly at  me,  and  said:  "  Be  not  proud  of  your 


12  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCTI. 


fairness,  or  your  wisdom ;  but  be  proud  as  the 
mountain  eagle  as  often  as  you  think:  I  am 
Inger  Gyldenlove's  daugliter  !  " 

BlORN. 

And  was  it  not  matter  enough  for  pride? 

Elina. 

You  told  me  so  often  enough,  Biorn !  Oh,  you 
told  me  many  a  tale  in  those  days.  [Presses  his 
ha7id.]  Thanks  for  them  all! — Now,  tell  me 
one  more ;  it  might  make  me  light  of  heart  again, 
as  of  old. 

Biorn. 

You  are  a  child  no  longer. 

Elina. 

Nay,  indeed !  But  let  me  dream  that  I  am. 
■ — Come,  tell  on  ! 

[Throws  herself  into  a   chair.      Biorn   sits 
on  the  edge  of  the  high  hearth. 

Biorn. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  high-born 
knight 

Elina. 

[Who  has  been  listening  restlessly  hi  the  di- 
rection of  the  hall,  seises  his  arm  and  breaks  out 
in  a  veliement  whisper.]  Hush!  No  need  to 
shout  so  loud ;  T  can  hear  well ! 


ACT!.]         LADY      INCER      OF      OSTRAT.  13 

BlORN. 

[More  softly.]  Once  upon  a  time  there  was 
a    high-born    knight,    of    whom    there    went   the 

strange  report 

[Elina   half   rises,   and   listens   in   amxioHS 
suspense  in  the  direction  of  the  hall. 

BlORN. 

Mistress  Elina, — wliat  ails  you? 

Elina. 
\Sits  down  again.]      ]\Ie?     Nothing,     Go  on. 

BlORN. 

Well,  as  I  was  saying — did  this  knight  but 
look  straight  in  a  woman's  eyes,  never  could  she 
forget  it  after;  her  thoughts  must  follow  him 
wherever  he  went,  and  she  must  waste  away 
with  sorrow. 

Elina. 
I  have  heard  that  tale. — Moreover,  'tis  no  tale 
you  are  telling,  for  the  knight  you  speak  of  is 
Nils   Eykke,  who  sits  even  now  in  the   Council 
of  Denmark 

BlORN. 

jNIay  be  so. 

Elina. 
Well,  let  it  pass — go  on ! 

BlORN. 

Now  it  happened  once  on  a  tunc- 


14  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCTI. 


Elina. 
[Rises  suddenly.]      Hush;  be  still! 

BlORN. 

What  now?     Wliat  is  the  matter? 

Elina, 
[Listening.]      Do  you  hear? 

BlORN. 

What? 

Elina. 
It  is  there!     Yes,  by  the  cross  of  Christ,  it 
is  there! 

BlORN. 

[Rises.]      What  is  there?     Where? 

Elina. 
She  herself — in  the  hall 


[Goes  hastily  towards  the  hall. 

BlORN. 

[Following.]      How  can  j^ou  think — ?     Mis- 
tress Elina, — go  to  your  chamber  ! 

Elina. 
Hush ;  stand  still !     Do  not  move ;  do  not  let 
her   sec   you !      Wait — the   moon    is   coming  out. 
Can  you  not  see  the  black-robed  figure ? 

BlORN. 

By  all  the  saints ! 


LADY      I  N  G  E  R      OF      (>  S  T  R  A  T.  13 


Elina. 
Do  3^ou  see — she  turns  Knut  Alfson's  picture 
to  the  wall.      Ha-ha ;   be  sure  it  looks   her   too 
straight  in  the  eyes ! 

BlORN. 

Mistress  Elina,  hear  me ! 

Elina. 
[Gotvg  back  towards  the  fireplace.^      Now  I 
know  what  I  know  ! 

BlORN. 

[  To  himself.  ]     Then  it  is  true  ! 

Elina. 
Who  was  it,  Biorn?     Who  was  it? 

BlORN. 

You  saw  as  plainly  as  I. 

Elina. 
Well.^     Whom  did  I  see? 

BlORN. 

You  saw  your  mother. 

Elina. 
{Half  to  herself.]  Night  after  niglit  I  have 
heard  her  steps  in  there.  I  have  heard  her 
wliisperinp;  ,ind  moaning  like  a  soul  in  pain. 
And  what  says  the  song —  ?  Ah,  now  I  know ! 
Now  I  know  that 


iS  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT,        [j 


BlORN. 

Hush ! 

[Lady  Inger  Gyldenlote  enters  rapidly 
from  the  hall,  rvithout  noticing  the 
others;  she  goes  to  the  window,  draws 
the  curtain,  and  gases  out  as  if  watching 
for  some  one  on  the  high  road;  after  a 
while,  she  turns  and  goes  slowly  back 
into  the  hall. 

Elina. 
[Softly,  following  her  with  her  eyes.]     White, 

white  as  the  dead ! 

[An  uproar  of  many  voices  is  heard  outside 
the  door  on  the  right. 

BlORN. 

What  can  this  be? 

Elina. 
Go  out  and  see  what  is  amiss. 

[Einar  Huk,  the  bailiff,  appears  in  the 
anteroom,  with  a  crowd  of  Retainers 
and  Peasants. 

Einar   Huk. 
[In  the  doorway.]     Straight  in  to  her!     And 
be  not  abashed ! 

BlORN. 

What  seek  you.^ 

Einar  Huk. 
Lady  Inger  herself. 


ACT    I.]        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  1? 


BlORN. 

Lady  Inger?     So  late? 

EiNAR    HuK. 

Late,  but  time  enough,  I  wot. 

The   Peasants. 
Yes,  yes ;  she  must  hear  us  now ! 

[The  whole  rabble  crowds  into  the  room. 
At  the  same  moment  Lady  Inger  appears 
in  the  doorway  of  the  hall.  A  sudden 
silence. 

Lady  Inger. 
What  would  you  with  me? 

Einar   Huk. 
We  sought  you,  noble  lady,  to 


Lady  Inger. 
Well — say  on  ! 

Einar  Huk. 
Why,  we  are  not  ashamed  of  our  errand.     In 
one   word— we   come  to   pray   you   for  weapons 

and  leave 

Lady  Inger. 
Weapons  and  leave — ?     And  for  what? 

Einar  Huk. 
There  has  come  a  rumour  from  Sweden  that 
the  people  of  the  Dales  have  risen  against  King 
Gustav 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCTI- 


Lady  Inger. 
The  people  of  the  Dales? 

Einar  Huk. 

Ay,   so  the  tidings   run,   and  they  seem  sure 
enough. 

Lady  Inger. 

Well — if    it   were    so — what   have   you   to    do 
with  the  Dale-folk's  rising.'' 

The   Peasants. 
AVe  will  join  them!     We  will  help.     We  will 
free  ourselves ! 

Lady  Inger. 
[To  herself.]     Can  the  time  be  come.'' 

Einar  Huk. 
From  all  our  borderlands  the  peasants  are 
pouring  across  to  the  Dales.  Even  outlaws  that 
have  wandered  for  years  in  the  mountains  are 
venturing  down  to  the  homesteads  again,  and 
drawing  men  together,  and  whetting  their  rusty 
swords. 

Lady  Inger. 
[After  a  pause.]      Tell  me,   men — have   you 
thought  well   of  this?      Have   you   counted   the 
cost,  if  King  Gustav's  men  should  win? 

Biorn. 
[Softly    and    imploringly    to    Lady    Inger.] 
Count  the  cost  to  the  Danes   if  King  Gustav's 
men  should  lose. 


ACT    I.]        LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  19 


Lady  Inger. 


[Evasively.]  That  reckoning  is  not  for  me 
to  make.  [Turns  to  the  people. 

You  know  that  King  Gustav  is  sure  of  help 
from  Denmark.  King  Frederick  is  his  friend, 
and  will  never  leave  him  in  the  lurcli 

EiNAR    HuK. 

But  if  the  people  were  now  to  rise  all  over 
Norway's  land  ? — if  wc  all  rose  as  one  man, 
nobles  and  peasants  together? — Ay,  Lady  Inger 
Gyldenlove,  the  time  we  have  waited  for  is 
surely  come.  We  have  but  to  rise  now  to  drive 
the  strangers  from  the  land. 

The   Peasants. 

Ay,  out  with  the  Danish  sheriffs !  Out  with 
the  foreign  masters !  Out  with  the  Councillors' 
lackeys ! 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  herself.]  Ah,  there  is  metal  in  them; 
and  yet,  yet ! 

BlORN. 

[To  himself.]  She  is  of  two  minds.  [To 
Elina.]  What  say  you  now,  Mistress  Elina — 
have  you  not  sinned  in  misjudging  your  mother? 

Elina. 

Biorn — if  my  eyes  have  lied  to  me,  I  could 
tear  them  out  of  my  head ! 


20  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


EiNAR    HUK. 

See  you  not,  my  noble  lady,  King  Gustav 
must  be  dealt  with  first.  Were  his  power  once 
gone,  the  Danes  cannot  long  hold  this  land 

Lady  Inger. 
And  then? 

Einar  Huk. 
Then   we   shall   be    free.      We  shall   have  no 
more  foreign  masters,  and  can  choose  ourselves 
a  king,  as  the  Swedes  have  done  before  us. 

Lady  Inger. 
[With    animation.]       A    king    for    ourselves! 
Are  you  thinking  of  the  Sture  ^  stock.'' 

Einar  Huk. 
King  Christiern  and  others  after  him  have 
swept  bare  our  ancient  houses.  The  best  of  our 
nobles  are  outlaws  on  the  mountain  paths,  if  so 
be  they  still  live.  Nevertheless,  it  might  still 
be  possible  to  find  one  or  other  shoot  of  the  old 

stems 

Lady  Inger. 
[Hastily.]       Enough,    Einar    Huk,    enough! 
[  To  herself.  ]     Ah,  my  dearest  hope  ! 

[Turns  to  the  Peasants  and  Retainers. 
I  have  warned  you,  now,  as  well  as  I  can.  I 
have  told  you  how  great  is  the  risk  you  run. 
But  if  you  are  fixed  in  your  purpose,  'twere 
folly  in  me  to  forbid  what  I  have  no  power  to 
prevent. 

>  Pronounce  Stoore. 


ACT    I.]        LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  21 


EiNAR    HUK. 

Then  we  have  your  leave  to ? 

Lady  Inger. 
You  have  your  own  firm  will;  take  counsel 
with  that.      If  it  be  as  you  say,  that  you  are 

daily  harassed  and  oppressed I  know  but 

little  of  these  matters.  I  will  not  know  more ! 
What  can  I,  a  lonely  woman — .''  Even  if  you 
were  to  plunder  the  Banquet  Hall — and  there's 
many  a  good  weapon  on  the  walls — you  are  the 
masters  at  Ostrat  to-night.  You  must  do  as 
seems  good  to  you.     Good-night ! 

[Loud  cries  of  joy  from  the  multitude. 
Candles  are  lighted;  the  Retainers  bring 
out  weapons  of  different  kinds  from  the 
hall. 

BlORN. 

[Seizes  Lady  Inger's  hand  as  she  is  going.] 
Thanks,  my  noble  and  high-souled  mistress  !  I, 
that  have  known  you  from  childhood  up — I  have 
never  doubted  you. 

Lady  Inger. 
Hush,  Biorn — 'tis  a  dangerous   game   I  have 
ventured  this  night.     The  others  stake  only  their 
lives ;  but  I,  trust  me,  a  thousandfold  more ! 

Biorn. 
How  mean  you  ?     Do  you  fear  for  your  power 
and  your  favour  with ? 

Lady  Inger. 
My  power  ?     O  God  in  Heaven  ! 


22  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT,        [aCT    I. 


A  Retainer. 
[Comes  from   the   hall   with   a   large   sword.] 
See,  here's  a  real  good  wolf's-tooth !     With  this 
will  I  flay  the  blood-suckers'  lackeys ! 

Einar  Huk. 
[To  another.]     What  is  that  you  have  found? 

The   Retainer. 
The  breastplate  they  call  Herlof  Hyttefad's. 

Einar  Huk. 
'Tis  too  good  for  such  as  you.     Look,  here  is 
the    shaft    of    Sten    Sture's  ^    lance ;    hang    the 
breastplate  upon  it,  and  we  shall  have  the  noblest 
standard  heart  can  desire. 

Finn. 
[Comes  from  the  door  on  the  left,  with  a  letter 
in  his  hand,  and  goes  towards  Lady  Inger. ]      I 
have  sought  you  through  all  the  house 

Lady  Inger. 
What  would  you.'' 

Finn. 
[Hands  her  the  letter.]     A  messenger  is  come 
from  Trondhiem  ^  with  a  letter  for  you. 

Lady  Inger. 
Let   me    sec!       [Opening    the    letter.]       From 
Trondhiem?     What  can  it  be?      [Runs  through 
1  Pronouiiee  Sfmjn  StooriK  '  I'ronounce  Tronijem. 


ACT    I.]         LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  23 

the  letter.]      O  God!      From  him!   and  here   in 

Norway 

[Reads  on  with  strong  emotion,  while  the 
men  go  on  bringing  out  arms  from  the 
hall. 

Lady  Inger. 
\To    herself.]      He    is    coming   here.      He   is 
coming  here   to-night !- — Ay,   tlien   'tis   with   our 
wits  we  must  fight,  not  with  the  sword. 

Einar  Huk. 
Enough,   enough,   good   fellows ;   we   are  well 
armed  now.     Set  we  forth  now  on  our  way ! 

Lady  Inger. 
[With  a  sudden   change  of  tone.]      No  man 
shall  leave  my  house  to-night ! 

Einar  Huk. 
But  the  wind  is  fair,  noble  lady;  'twill  take 
us  quickly  up  the  fiord,  and 

Lady  Inger. 
It  shall  be  as  I  have  said. 

Einar  Huk. 
Are  we  to  wait  till  to-morrow,  then.^ 

Lady  Inger. 
Till  to-morrow,   and   longer  still.      No  armed 
man  shall  go  forth  from  Ostrat  yet  awhile. 

[»S?^«*  of  displeasure  among  the  crowd. 


24  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


Some  of  the   Peasants. 
We  will  go  all  the  same.  Lady  Inger ! 

The  Cry  Spreads. 
Ay,  ay;  we  will  go! 

Lady  Inger. 
[Advancing  a  step  towards  them.]     Who  dares 
to  move.^ 

[A  silence.  After  a  moment's  pause,  she 
adds : 

I  have  thought  for  you.  What  do  you  com- 
mon folk  know  of  the  country's  needs?  How 
dare  you  judge  of  such  things?  You  must  e'en 
bear  your  oppressions  and  burdens  yet  awhile. 
Why   murmur   at   that,   when   you   see   that  we, 

your  leaders,  are  as  ill  bested  as  you  ? Take 

all   the   weapons   back  to   the   hall.      You   shall 
know  my  further  will  hereafter.     Go ! 

[The  Retainers  take  back  the  arms,  and 
the  whole  crowd  then  withdraws  by  the 
door  on  the  right. 

Elina. 
[Softly  to  Biorn.]      Say  you  still  that  I  have 
sinned  in  misjudging — the  Lady  of  Ostrat? 

Lady  Inger. 
[Beckons  to  Biorn,  and  says.]     Have  a  guest- 
chamber  ready. 

Biorn. 
It  is  well,  Lady  Inger ! 


ACT    I.]        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  25 


Lady  Ingkr. 
And   let  the   gate   be   open   to  whoever   shall 
knock. 

BlORN. 

But ? 

Lady  Inqer. 
The  gate  open ! 

BlORN. 

The  gate  open.  [Goes  out  to  the  right. 

Lady  Inger. 
[To  Elina,  who  has  already  reached  the  door 

on  the  left.]     Stay  here  ! Elina — my  child 

— I  have  something  to  say  to  you  alone. 

Elina. 
I  hear  you. 

Lady  Ingkr. 
Elina you  think  evil  of  your  mother. 

Elina. 
I  think,  to  my  sorrow,  what  your  deeds  have 
forced  me  to  think. 

Lady  Inger. 
And  you  answer  as  your  bitter  spirit  bids  you. 

Elina. 
Who    has    filled    my    spirit    with    bitterness  ? 
From  my  childhood  I  had  been  wont  to  look  up 
to  you  as  a  great  and  high-souled  woman.     'Twas 


26  LADY      INGER      OF      tisTRAT. 


in  your  likeness  that  I  pictured  the  women  of 
the  chronicles  and  the  Book  of  Heroes.  I 
thought  the  Lord  God  himself  liad  set  his  seal 
on  your  brow,  and  marked  you  out  as  the  leader 
of  the  helpless  and  the  oppressed.  Knights  and 
nobles  sang  your  praise  in  the  feast-hall;  and 
even  the  peasants,  far  and  near,  called  you  the 
country's  pillar  and  its  hope.  All  thought  that 
through  you  the  good  times  were  to  come  again  ! 
All  thought  that  through  you  a  new  day  was  to 
dawn  over  the  land  !  The  night  is  still  here ;  and 
I  scarce  knew  if  through  you  I  dare  look  for  any 
morning. 

Lady  Inger. 
'Tis  easy  to  see  whence  you  have  learnt  such 
venomous    words.      You    have    let   yourself    give 
ear  to  what  the  thoughtless  rabble  nuitters  and 
murmurs  about  things  it  can  little  judge  of. 

Elina, 
"  Truth  is  in  the  people's  mouth,"  was  your 
word  when  they  praised  you  in  speech  and  song. 

Lady  Inger. 
May  be  so.     But  if  indeed  I  chose  to  sit  here 
idle,  though   it  was  my  part  to  act — think  you 
not  that  such  a  choice  were  burden  enough  for 
me,  without  your  adding  to  its  weight? 

Elina. 
The  weight  I  add  to  your  burden  crushes  me 
no   less   than   you.      I>ightly   and    freely    I    drew 
the  breath  of  life,  so  long  ns   J   h.-id  you  to  be- 


ACT    I.]         LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  27 

lieve  in.  For  my  pride  is  my  life ;  and  well 
might  I  have  been  proud,  had  you  remained 
what  once  you  were. 

Lady  Inger. 
And    what    proves    to    you    that    I    have    not? 
Elina — how   know   you   so   surely   that  you   are 
not  doing  your  mother  wrong  .^ 

Elina. 
[Vehemoitlt/.]      Oh,  that  I  were! 

Lady  Inger. 
Peace !       You    have    no    right    to    call    your 
mother    to    account. — With    a    single    word     I 

could ;  but  'twould  be  an  ill  word  for  you 

to  hear;  you  must  await  what  time  shall  bring; 

may  be  that 

Elina. 
[  Turns  to  go.  ]     Sleep  well,  my  mother  ! 

Lady  Inger. 
[Hesitates.]     Nay — stay  with  me;  I  have  still 
somewhat — ■  —      Come  nearer ; — you  must  hear 
me,   Elina ! 

[Sits    down   by    the    table    in   front   of    the 
window. 

Elina. 
I  hear  you. 

Ladv  Inger. 
For   as    silent    ns   you    arc,    I    know   well  that 
you  often  long  to  be  gone  from  here.     Ostrat  is 
too  lonclv  and  lifeless  for  von. 


28  LADY      INOER      OF      (isTRAT.        FaCT    I. 


Elina. 
Do  you  wonder  at  that^  my  mother? 

Lady  Inger. 

It  rests  with  you  whether  all  this  shall  hence- 
forth be  changed. 

Elina. 
How  so? 

Lady  Inger. 

Listen. — I  look  for  a  guest  to-night. 

Elina. 
[Comes  nearer.]      A  guest? 

Lady  Inger. 
A  guest,  who  must  remain  a  stranger  to  all. 
None  must  know  whence  he  comes  or  whither  he 
goes. 

Elina. 
[Throws   herself,   with   a   cry   of  joy,   at   her 
mother's    feet,    and    seizes     her    hands.\        My 
mother !     My  mother  !     Forgive  me,  if  you  can, 
all  the  wrong  I  have  done  you ! 

Lady  Inger. 
What  do  you  mean  ?     Elina,  I  do  not  under- 
stand you. 

Elina. 
Then  they  were  all  deceived !     You  are  still 
true  at  heart ! 


act  i.]      lady    inger    of    ostrat.  29 

Lady  Inger. 
Rise,  rise  and  tell  me 

Elina. 
Think  you  I  do  not  know  who  the  stranger  is  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

You  know?     And  yet ? 

Elina. 
Think  you  the  gates  of  Ostrat  shut  so  close 
that  never  a  whisper  of  the  country's  woe  can 
slip  through  them.''  Think  you  I  do  not  know 
that  the  heir  of  many  a  noble  line  wanders  out- 
lawed, without  rest  or  shelter,  while  Danish 
masters  lord  it  in  the  home  of  his  fathers.'' 

Lady  Inger. 
And  what  then-f* 

Elina. 
I   know  well   that   many   a   high-born   knight 
is    hunted    through    the    woods    like    a    hungry 
wolf.      No  hearth  has  he  to  rest  by,  no  bread 

to  eat 

Lady  Inger. 
[Coldly.]     Enough!     Now  I  understand  you. 

Elina. 

[Continjiing.]      And  that  is  why  the  gates  of 

Ostrat  must  stand  open  by  night !     That  is  why 

he  must  remain  a  stranger  to  all,  this  guest  of 

whom    none    must    know    whence    he    comes    or 


30  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [ACT    I. 


whither  he  goes  !  You  arc  setting  at  nauglit  the 
harsh  decree  that  forbids  you  to  harbour  or  suc- 
cour the  outlaw 

Lady  Inger. 
Enough,  I  say ! 

[After  a  short  silence,  adds  with  an  effort: 
You  mistake,  Elina — 'tis  no  outlaw  I  look  for. 

Elina. 
[/2?*es.]       Then    I    have    understood    you    ill 
indeed. 

Lady  Inger. 

Listen  to  me,  my  child;  but  think  as  you 
listen ;  if  indeed  you  can  tame  that  wild  spirit 
of  yours. 

Elina. 

I  am  tame,  till  you  have  spoken. 

Lady  Inger. 
Attend,  then,  to  what  I  have  to  tell  you. — I 
have  sought,  so  far  as  lay  in  my  power,  to  keep 
you  in  ignorance  of  all  our  griefs  and  miseries. 
What  could  it  avail  to  fill  your  young  heart  with 
wrath  and  care.''  'Tis  not  women's  weeping 
and  wailing  that  can  deliver  us;  we  need  the 
courage  and  strength  of  men. 

Elina. 
Who   has   told   you   that,   when    courage    and 
strength  are  needed,  I  shall  be  found  wanting? 

Lady   Ingek. 
Hush,  child; — I  might  take  you  at  your  word. 


LADY      INOER      OF      OSTRAT,  31 


Elina. 
How  mean  you^  my  mother? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  might  call  on  you  for  both;   I  might ; 

but  let  me  say  my  say  out  first. 

Know  then  that  the  time  seems  now  to  be 
drawing  nigh,  towards  which  the  Danish  Coun- 
cil have  been  working  for  many  a  year— the 
time,  I  mean,  for  them  to  strike  the  last  blow 
at  our  rights  and  our  freedom.     Therefore  must 


Elina. 
[Eagerly.]      Openly  rebel,  my  mother.'' 

Lady  Inger. 

No;  we  must  gain  breathing-time.  The 
Council  is  now  assembled  at  Copenhagen,  con- 
sidering how  best  to  go  to  work.  Most  of  them 
hold,  'tis  said,  that  there  can  be  no  end  to  dis- 
sensions till  Norway  and  Denmark  are  one;  for 
should  we  still  possess  our  riglits  as  a  free  land 
when  the  time  comes  to  clioosc  the  next  king,  'tis 
most  like  that  the  feud  will  break  out  openly. 
Now  the  Danish  councillors  would  hinder 
this— 

Elina. 

Ay,  they  would  hinder  it- — !  But  are  we  to 
endure  such  things  ?     Are  we  to  look  on  quietly 

while ? 

Lady  Inger. 

No,  we  will  not  endure  it.  But  to  take  up 
arms — to   declare   open   war — what   would   come 


32  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    I. 


of  that,  so  long  as  we  are  not  united?  And 
were  we  ever  less  united  in  this  land  than  we 
are  even  now? — No,  if  aught  is  to  be  accom- 
plished, it  must  be  secretly  and  in  silence. 
Even  as  I  said,  we  must  have  time  to  draw 
breath.  In  the  South,  a  good  part  of  the  nobles 
are  for  the  Dane;  but  here  in  the  North  they 
are  still  in  doubt.  Therefore  has  King  Fred- 
erick sent  hither  one  of  his  most  trusted  coun- 
cillors, to  assure  himself  with  his  own  eyes  how 
we  stand  affected. 

Elina. 
[In  suspense.]     Well — and  then ? 


Ladt  Inger. 
He  is  the  guest  I  look  for  to-night. 

Elina. 
He  comes  hither?     And  to-night? 

Lady  Inger. 
A   trading    ship    brought   him    to    Trondhiem 
yesterday.      News   has  just  reached   me   of   his 
approach;  he  may  be  here  within  the  hour. 

Elina. 
And  you  do  not  bethink  you,  my  mother,  how 
'twill  endanger  your  fame  thus  to  receive  the 
Danish  envoy?  Do  not  the  people  already  look 
on  you  with  distrustful  eyes  ?  How  can  you  hope 
that,  when  the  time  comes,  they  will  let  you 
rule  and  guide  them,  if  it  be  known  that 


act  i.]      lady    inger    of    ostrat.  33 

Lady  Inger. 
Fear  not.     All  this  I  have  fully  weighed;  but 
there  is  no  danger.     His  errand  in  Norway  is  a 
secret;  he  has  come  unknown  to  Trondhiem,  and 
unknown  shall  he  be  our  guest  at  Ostrat. 

Elina. 
And  the  name  of  this  Danish  lord ? 


Lady  Inger. 
It  sounds  wellj  Elina;  Denmark  has  scarce  a 
nobler  name. 

Elina. 
But  what  then  do  you  purpose.''     I  cannot  yet 
grasp  your  meaning. 

Lady  Inger. 
You  will  soon  understand. — Since  we  cannot 
trample  on  the  serpent,  we  must  bind  it. 

Elina. 
Take  heed  that  it  burst  not  your  bonds. 

Lady  Inger. 
It  rests  with  you  to  tighten  them  as  you  will. 

Elina. 
With  me? 

Lady  Inger. 
I  have  long  seen  that  Ostrat  is  as  a  cage  to 
you.     The  young  falcon  chafes  behind  the  iron 
bare. 


34  LADY      INOER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    L 


Elina. 


My  wings  are  clipped.     Even  if  you  set  me 
free — 'twould  avail  me  little. 

Lady  Inger. 
Your  wings  are  not  clipped^  save  by  your  own 
will. 

Elina. 

Will.''     My  will  is  in  your  hands.     Be  what 
you  once  were,  and  I  too 

Lady  Inger. 
Enough,  enough.     Hear  me  further. — It  would 
scarce  break  your  heart  to  leave  Ostrat? 

Elina. 
Maybe  not,  my  mother ! 

Lady  Inger. 
You  told  me  once,  that  you  lived  your  hap- 
piest life  in  your  tales  and  histories.     What  if 
that  life  were  to  be  yours  once  more? 

Elina. 
What  mean  you? 

Lady  Inger. 
Elina — if  a  mighty  noble  were  to  come  and 
lead  you  to  his  castle,   where  you   should   find 
damsels  and  squires,  silken  robes  and  lofty  halls 
awaiting  you? 

Elina. 
A  noble,  you  say? 


ACT    I.l        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  35 


Lady  Inger. 
A  noble. 

Elina. 
[More  softlij.]     And  the  Danish  envoy  comes 
hither  to-night? 

Lady  Inger. 
To-night. 

Elina. 
If   so  be,   then   I    fear   to   read   the   meaning 
of  your  words. 

Lady  Inger. 
There  is  naught  to  fear  if  you  misread  them 
not.      It  is   far   from   my  thought  to  put   force 
upon    you.      You    shall   choose    for    yourself   in 
this  matter,  and  follow  your  own  rede. 

Elina. 
[Comes  a  step  nearer.]  Know  yon  the  tale  of 
the  mother  who  drove  across  the  hills  by  night, 
with  lier  little  children  in  the  sledge.^  The 
wolves  were  on  her  track;  'twas  life  or  death 
with  her; — and  one  by  one  she  cast  out  her 
little  ones,  to  win  time  and  save  herself. 

Lady  Inger. 
Nursery  tales  !    A  mother  would  tear  the  heart 
from  her  breast,  before  she  would  cast  her  child 
to  the  wolves ! 

Elina. 
Were    I   not   my   mother's   daughter,    I    would 
say    you    were    riglit.       But    you    are    like    that 


S6  LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [acT    I. 


mother;  one  by  one  have  you  cast  out  your 
daughters  to  the  wolves.  The  eldest  went  first. 
Five  years  ago  Merete  ^  went  forth  from  Ostrat; 
now  she  dwells  in  Bergen,  and  is  Vinzents 
Lunge's  ^  wife.  But  tliink  you  she  is  happy  as 
the  Danish  noble's  lady.^  Vinzents  Lunge  is 
mighty,  well-nigh  as  a  king;  Merete  has  dam- 
sels and  squires,  silken  robes  and  lofty  halls ; 
but  the  day  has  no  sunshine  for  her,  and  the 
night  no  rest;  for  she  has  never  loved  him.  He 
came  hither  and  he  wooed  her,  for  she  was  the 
greatest  heiress  in  Norway,  and  'twas  then  need- 
ful for  him  to  gain  a  footing  in  the  land.  I  know 
it ;  I  know  it  well !  Merete  bowed  to  your  will ; 
she  went  with  the  stranger  lord. — But  what  has 
it  cost  her.''  More  tears  than  a  mother  should 
wish  to  answer  for  at  the  day  of  reckoning! 

Lady  Inger. 
I  know  my  reckoning,  and  I  fear  it  not. 

Elina. 

Your    reckoning    ends    not    here.      Where    is 
Lucia,  your  second  child.'' 

Lady  Inger. 
Ask  God,  who  took  her. 

Elina. 

'Tis  you  I  ask ;  'tis  you  must  answer  for  her 
young  life.      She  was  glad  as  a  bird   in   sj)rin<v 

»  Pronounce  Mai/rai/fe.  -  I'ronouiifo  I.ooiiglii'. 


ACT    I.]        LADY     INGER     OF      OS.   RAT,  37 


when  she  sailed  from  OstrSt  to  be  Merete's 
guest.  A  year  passed,  and  she  jtood  in  this 
room  once  more;  but  her  cheeks  wer^  white,  and 
death  had  gnawed  deep  into  her  breist.  Ah,  I 
startle  you,  my  mother !  You  thought  the  ugly 
secret  was  buried  with  her; — but  she  toM  me  all. 
A  courtly  knight  had  won  her  heart.  L'e  would 
have  wedded  her.  You  knew  that  her  honour 
was  at  stake;  yet  your  will  never  bem — and 
your  child  had  to  die.     You  see,  I  know  all! 

Lady  Inger. 
All.''     Then  she  told  you  his  name? 

Elina. 
His  name?     No;  his  name  she  did   lot  tell  me. 
She  shrank  from  his  name  as  though  it  stung 
her; — she  never  uttered  it. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Relieved,  to  herself.]  Ah,  then  you  do  not 
know  all 

Elina — 'tis  true  that  the  whole  of  this  matter 
was  well  known  to  me.  But  there  is  one  thing 
it  seems  you  have  overlooked.  The  lord  whom 
Lucia  met  in  Bergen  was  a  Dane 

Elina. 
That,  too,  I  know. 

Lady  Inger. 

And  his  love  was  a  lie.  With  guile  and  soft 
speeches  he  had  ensnared  her. 


38  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT 


Elina. 


I  know  it ;  but  nevertheless  slie  loved  him ;  and 
had  you  had  a  mother's  heart,  your  daughter's 
honour  had  been  more  to  you  than  all. 

Lady  Inger. 

Net  more  than  her  happiness.  Think  you 
that,  with  ISIerete's  lot  before  my  eyes,  I  could 
sacrifice  my  second  child  to  a  man  that  loved 
her  not-f* 

Elina. 

Cuni:ing  words  may  beguile  many,  but  they 
beguile  .  ot  me 

Think  lot  I  know  nothing  of  all  that  is  pass- 
ing in  ou  •  land.  I  understand  your  counsels 
but  too  well.  I  know  that  in  you  the  Danish 
lords  have  no  true  friend.  It  may  be  that  you 
hate  them;  but  you  fear  them  too.  When  you 
gave  Merete  to  Vinzents  Lunge,  the  Danes  held 
the  mastery  on  all  sides  throughout  our  land. 
Three  years  later,  when  you  forbade  Lucia  to 
wed  the  man  to  whom,  though  he  had  deceived 
her,  she  had  given  her  life — things  were  far 
different  then.  The  King's  Danish  governors 
had  shamefully  misused  the  common  people,  and 
you  deemed  it  not  wise  to  link  yourself  still 
more  closely  to  the  foreign  tyrants. 

And  what  have  you  done  to  avenge  her  that 
was  sent  so  young  to  her  grave.''  You  have  done 
nothing.  Well  then,  I  will  act  in  your  stead;  I 
will  avenge  all  the  shame  they  have  brought 
upon  our  people  and  our  house ! 


act  i.]      lady    inger    of    ostrat.  39 

Lady  Inger. 
You  ?    What  will  you  do  ? 

Elina. 

I  will  go  my  way,  even  as  you  go  yours. 
What  I  shall  do  I  myself  know  not;  but  I  feel 
within  me  the  strength  to  dare  all  for  our  right- 
eous cause. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  have  you  a  hard  fight  before  you.  I 
once  promised  as  j'ou  do  now — and  my  hair  has 
grown  grey  under  the  burden  of  that  promise. 

Elina. 

Good-night!  Your  guest  will  soon  be  here, 
and  at  that  meeting  I  should  be  one  too  many. 

It   may   be   there   is   yet   time    for   you ; 

well,  God  strengthen  and  guide  you  on  your 
path !  Forget  not  that  the  eyes  of  many  thou- 
sands are  fixed  on  you.  Think  on  Merete,  weep- 
ing late  and  early  over  her  wasted  life.  Think 
on  Lucia,  sleeping  in  her  black  coffin. 

And  one  thing  more.  Forget  not  that  in  the 
game  you  play  this  night,  your  stake  is  your 
last  child.  [Goes  out  to  the  left. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Looks   after   her   arvhile.]       My   last   child .^ 

You  know  not  how  true  was  that  word But 

the  stake  is  not  my  child  only.  God  help  me, 
I  am  playing  to-niglit  for  the  whole  of  Norway's 
land. 


40  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.         [i 


Ah — is  not  that  some  one  riding  through  the 
gateway?  [Listens  at  the  window. 

No ;  not  yet.  Only  the  wind ;  it  blows  cold 
as  the  grave 

Has  God  a  right  to  do  this? — To  make  me  a 
woman — and  then  to  lay  on  my  shoulders  a 
man's  work? 

For  I  have  the  welfare  of  the  country  in 
my  hands.  It  is  in  my  power  to  make  them 
rise  as  one  man.  They  look  to  me  for  the  sig- 
nal; and  if  I  give  it  not  now — it  may  never 
be  given. 

To    delay?      To    sacrifice   the    many    for   the 

sake  of  one? — Were  it  not  better  if  I  could ? 

No,  no,  no — I  will  not!     I  cannot! 

[Steals  a  glance  towards  the  Banquet  Hall, 
hut  turns  away  again  as  if  in  dread,  and 
whispers: 

I  can  see  them  in  there  now.  Pale  spectres 
— dead  ancestors — fallen  kinsfolk. — Ah,  those 
eyes  that  pierce  me  from  every  corner ! 

[Makes  a  gesture  of  repulsion,  and  cries: 

Sten  Sture!  Knut  Alfson !  Olaf  Skaktavl ! 
Back — back! — I  cannot  do  this! 

[A  Stranger,  strongly  built,  and  with 
grizzled  hair  and  beard,  has  entered  from 
the  Banquet  Hall.  He  is  dressed  in  a 
torn  lambskin  tunic;  his  weapons  are 
rusty. 

The  Stranger. 

[Stops  in  the  doorway,  and  says  in  a  low 
voice.]     Hail  to  you,  Inger  Gyldenlovel 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  41 


Lady  Inger. 
[Turns  with  a  scream.]     Ah^  Christ  in  heaven 
save  me ! 

[Falls  back  into  a  chair.  The  Stranger 
stands  gazing  at  her,  motionless,  leaning 
on  his  sword. 


ACT    SECOND 

The  room  at  Ostrdt,  as  in  the  first  Act. 

Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  is  seated  at  the  table 
on  the  right,  by  the  window.  Olaf  Skak- 
TAVL  is  standing  a  little  way  from  her. 
Their  faces  show  that  they  have  been  en- 
gaged in  a  heated  discussion. 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
For  the  last  time,  Inger  Gyldenlove — you  are 
not  to  be  moved  from  your  purpose? 

Lady  Inger. 
I  can  do  nought  else.     And  my  counsel  to  you 
is:   do   as    I    do.      If   it   be    Heaven's   will   that 
Norway  perish  utterly,  perish  it  must,  for  all  we 
may  do  to  save  it. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
And  think  you  I  can  content  my  heart  with 
that  belief.''  Shall  I  sit  and  look  idly  on,  now 
that  the  hour  is  come?  Do  you  forget  the  reck- 
oning I  have  against  them  ?  They  have  robbed 
me  of  my  lands,  and  parcelled  them  out  among 
themselves.  My  son,  my  only  child,  the  last 
of  my  race,  they  have  slaughtered  like  a  dog. 
Myself  they  have  outlawed  and  hunted  through 
4« 


LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.  43 


forest  and  fell  these  twenty  years.— Once  and 
again  have  folk  whispered  of  my  death;  but  this 
I  believe,  that  they  shall  not  lay  me  beneath  the 
sod  before   I  have  seen  my  vengeance. 

Lady  Inger. 

There  is  there  a  long  life  before  you.  What 
have  you  in  mind  to  do? 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 

Do?  How  should  I  know  what  I  will  do?  It 
has  never  been  my  part  to  plot  and  plan.  That 
is  where  you  must  help  me.  You  have  the  wit 
for  that.  I  have  but  my  sword  and  my  two 
arms. 

Lady  Inger. 

Your  sword  is  rusted,  Olaf  Skaktavl!  All  the 
swords  in  Norway  are  rusted. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

That  is  doubtless  why  some  folk  fight  only 
with  their  tongues. — Inger  Gyldenlove — great 
is  the  change  in  you.  Time  was  when  the  heart 
of  a  man  beat  in  your  breast. 

Lady  Inger. 
Put  me  not  in  mind  of  what  was. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

'Tis  for  that  very  purpose  I  am  here.  You 
shall  hear  me,  even  if 


44  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    II. 


Lady  Inger. 
Be  it  so  then ;  but  be  brief ;  for — I  must  say 
it — this  is  no  place  of  safety  for  you. 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
Ostrat  is  no  place  of  safety   for   an  outlaw? 
That  I  have  long  known.     But  you  forget  that 
an  outlaw  is  unsafe  wheresoever  he  may  wander. 

Lady  Inger. 
Speak  then;  I  will  not  hinder  you. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

'Tis  nigh  on  thirty  years  now  since  first  I 
saw  you.  It  was  at  Akershus  ^  in  the  house  of 
Knut  Alfson  and  his  wife.  You  were  little 
more  than  a  child  then ;  yet  were  you  bold  as  the 
soaring  falcon^  and  wild  and  headstrong  too  at 
times.  j\Iany  were  the  wooers  around  you.  I 
too  held  you  dear — dear  as  no  woman  before  or 
since.  But  you  cared  for  nothing,  thought  of 
nothing,  save  your  country's  evil  case  and  its 
great  need. 

Lady  Inger. 

I  counted  but  fifteen  summers  then — remem- 
ber that !  And  was  it  not  as  though  a  frenzy 
had  seized  us  all  in  those  days  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Call  it  what  you  will ;  but  one  thing  I  know 
— even  the  old  and  sober  men  among  us  thouglit 

1  Pronounce  Ahkers-Jioos. 


LADY      INCER      OF      OSTRAT.  45 


it  written  in  the  counsels  of  the  Lord  on  high 
that  you  were  she  who  should  break  our  thral- 
dom and  win  us  all  our  rights  again.  And 
more:  you  yourself  then  thought  as  we  did. 

Lady  Inger. 
'Twas  a  sinful  thought,  Olaf  Skaktavl.     'Twas 
my  proud  heart,  and  not  the   Lord's  call,  that 
spoke  in  me. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

You  could  have  been  the  chosen  one  had 
you  but  willed  it.  You  came  of  the  noblest 
blood  in  Norway;  power  and  riches  were  soon 
to  be  yours ;  and  you  had  an  ear  for  the  cries 
of  anguish — then  ! 

Do  you  remember  that  afternoon  w-hen  Hen- 
rik  Krummedike  and  the  Danish  fleet  anchored 
off  Akershus  ?  The  captains  of  the  fleet  off'ered 
terms  of  peace,  and,  trusting  to  the  safe-con- 
duct, Knut  Alfson  rowed  on  board.  Three 
hours    later,    we    bore    him    through    the    castle 

gate 

Lady  Inger. 

A  corpse;  a  corpse! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
The  best  heart  in  Norway  burst,  when 
Krummedike's  hirelings  struck  him  down.  Me- 
thinks  I  still  can  see  the  long  procession  that 
passed  into  the  banquet-hall,  heavily,  two  by 
two.  There  he  lay  on  his  bier,  white  as  a  spring 
cloud,  with  the  axe-cleft  in  Ills  brow.  I  may 
safely    say    that    the    boldest    men    in    Norway 


4<6  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [i 


were  gathered  there  that  riiglit.  Lady  Mar- 
grete  stood  by  her  dead  husband's  liead,  and  we 
swore  as  one  man  to  venture  lands  and  life  to 
avenge  this  last  misdeed  and  all  that  had  gone 
before. — Inger  Gyldenldve, — who  was  it  that 
burst  through  the  circle  of  men  ?  A  maiden — 
almost  a  child — with  fire  in  her  eyes  and  her 
voice  half  choked  with  tears. — What  was  it  she 
swore .''     Shall  I  repeat  your  words .'' 

Lady  Inger. 

I  swore  what  the  rest  of  you  swore;  neither 
more  nor  less. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

You  remember  your  oath — and  yet  you  have 
forgotten  it. 

Lady  Inger. 

And  how  did  the  others  keep  their  promise? 
I  speak  not  of  you,  Olaf  Skaktavl,  but  of  your 
friends,  all  Norway's  nobles?  Not  one  of  them, 
in  all  these  years,  has  had  the  courage  to  be  a 
man ;  yet  they  lay  it  to  my  charge  that  I  am  a 
woman. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

I  know  what  you  would  say.  Why  have  they 
bent  to  the  yoke,  and  not  defied  the  tyrants  to 
the  last?  'Tis  but  too  true;  there  is  base  metal 
enough  in  our  noble  houses  nowadays.  But  had 
they  held  together — who  knows  what  then  might 
have  been  ?  And  you  could  have  held  them  to- 
gether, for  before  you  all  had  bowed. 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  4? 


Lady  Inger. 
My  answer  were  easy  enoiigli,  but  'twould 
scarce  content  you.  So  let  us  leave  speaking  of 
what  cannot  be  changed.  Tell  me  rather  what 
has  brought  you  to  Ostrat.  Do  you  need  har- 
bour.''  Well,  I  will  try  to  hide  you.  If  you 
would  have  aught  else,  speak  out;  you  shall  find 
me  ready 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
For  twenty  years  have  I  been  homeless.  In 
the  mountains  of  Jaemteland  my  hair  has  grown 
grey.  My  dwelling  has  been  with  wolves  and 
bears. — ^You  see,  I.ady  Inger — I  need  you  not; 
but  both  nobles  and  people  stand  in  sore  need 
of  you. 

Lady  Inger. 
The  old  burden. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Ay,  it  sounds  but  ill  in   yoiir  ears,   I   know; 
yet  hear  it  you  must,  for  all  that.     In  brief,  then : 
I  come  from  Sweden:  troubles  are  brewing:  the 
Dales  are  ready  to  rise. 

Lady  Inger. 
I  know  it. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Peter  Kanzler  ^  is  with  us — secretly,  you  un- 
derstand. 

Lady  Inger. 
\Starting.^      Peter  Kanzler? 

*  Tliat  is,  Peter  the  Chancellor. 


48  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        FaCT    II. 


Olaf   Skaktavl. 
'Tis  he  that  has  sent  me  to  Ostrat. 

Lady  Inger. 
[jRfstf*.]     Peter  Kanzler,  say  you? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
He    himself; — but    mayhap    you    no    longer 
know  him.'* 

Lady  Inger. 
[Half  to  herself.]      Only  too  well! — But  tell 
me,  I  pray  you, — what  message  do  you  bring? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
When  the  rumour  of  the  rising  reached  the 
border  mountains,  where  I  then  was,  I  set  off 
at  once  into  Sweden.  'Twas  not  hard  to  guess 
that  Peter  Kanzler  had  a  finger  in  the  game. 
I  sought  him  out  and  offered  to  stand  by  him; — 
he  knew  me  of  old,  as  you  know,  and  knew  that 
he  could  trust  me;  so  he  has  sent  me  hither. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Impatiently.]     Yes  yes, — he  sent  you  hither 

to ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[With    secrecy.]       Lady    Inger — a    stranger 
comes  to  Ostrat  to-night. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Surprised.]     What?     Know  you  that ? 


ACT  1 1. 1    LADY   INGEH   OP'   OSTRAT.      49 


Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Assuredly  I  know  it.     I  know  all.     'Twas  to 
meet  him  that  Peter  Kanzler  sent  me  hither. 

Lady  Inger. 
To  meet  him.''     Impossible,  Olaf  Skaktavl, — 
impossible ! 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
'Tis  as  I  tell  you.     If  he  be  not  already  come, 
he  will  soon 

Lady  Inger. 
Doubtless,  doubtless;  but 


Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Then  you  knew  of  his  coming? 

Lady  Inger. 
Ay,  surely.      He  sent  me  a  message.     'Twas 
therefore   they   opened   to   you   as    soon   as   you 
knocked. 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
[Listens.]      Hush! — some  one  is  riding  along 
the   road.       [Goes    to   the   windoiv.]      They   are 
opening  the  gate. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Looks  out.]      It  is  a  knight  and  his  attend- 
ant.    They  are  dismounting  in  the  courtyard. 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
'Tis  he  then.     His  name? 


50  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    II. 


Lady  Inger. 
You  know  not  his  name? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Peter  Kanzler  refused  to  tell  it  me.  He 
would  say  no  more  than  that  I  should  find  him 
at  Ostrat  the  third  evening  after  Martin- 
mas  

Lady  Inger. 

Ay ;    even   to-night. 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 

He  was  to  bring  letters  with  him;  and  from 
them,  and  from  you,  I  was  to  learn  who  he  is. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  let  me  lead  you  to  your  chamber.  You 
have  need  of  rest  and  refreshment.  You  shall 
soon  have  speech  with  the  stranger. 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
Well,  be  it  as  you  will. 

[Both  go  out  to  the  left. 
[After  a  short  pause,  Finn  enters  cau- 
tiously by  the  door  on  the  right,  looks 
round  the  room,  and  peeps  into  the  Ban- 
quet Hall;  he  then  goes  back  to  the  door, 
and  makes  a  sign  to  some  one  outside. 
Immediately  after,  enter  Councillor 
Nils  Lykke  and  the  Swedish  Com- 
mander, Jens  Bielke. 


act  ii.]      lady    inger    of    ostrat.  51 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Softly.]     No  one? 

Finn. 

[In  the  same  tone.]     No  one,  master! 

Nils  Lykke. 
And  we  may  depend  on  you  in  all  things? 

Finn. 
The     commandant     in     Trondhiem     has     ever 
given  me  a  name  for  trustiness. 

Nils  Lykke. 
'Tis  well;  he  has  said  as  much  to  me.     First 
of   all,   then — has    there    come    any   stranger    to 
Ostrat  to-night,  before  us? 

Finn. 

Ay;  a  stranger  came  an  hour  since. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Softly,    to    Jens     Bielke.]       He    is    here. 
[Turns    again    to    Finn.]       Would    you    know 
him  again?     Have  you  seen  him? 

Finn. 
Nay,   none   has    seen    him,   that    I    know,    but 
the    gatekeeper.      He    was    brought    at    once    to 
Lady  Inger,  and  she 

Nils   Lykke. 
Well?     What  of  her?     He  is  not  gone  again 
already  ? 


52  LADY      INOER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCTII. 

Finn. 
No;  but  it  seems  slie  holds  him  hidden  in  one 
of  her  own  rooms;  for 

Nils  Lykke. 
It  is  well. 

Jens  Bielke. 
[Whispers.]      Then  the   first  thing  is  to   put 
a  guard  on  the  gate ;  so  are  we  sure  of  him. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[With  a  smile.]  H'm !  [To  Finn.]  Tell 
me — is  there  any  way  of  leaving  the  castle^  save 
by  the  gate  ?  Gape  not  at  me  so  !  I  mean — 
can  one  escape  from  Ostrat  unseen,  though  the 
castle  gate  be  barred? 

Finn. 

Nay,  that  I  know  not.  'Tis  triie  they  talk  of 
secret  ways  in  the  vaults  beneath ;  but  no  one 
knows  them  save  Lady  Ingcr — and  mayhap  Mis- 
tress Elina. 

Jens  Bielke. 
The  devil! 

Nils  Lykke. 
It  is  well.     You  may  go. 

Finn. 

Should  you  need  me  in  aught  again,  you  have 
but  to  open  the  second  door  on  the  right  in  tlie 
Banquet  Hall,  and  I  shall  presently  be  at  hand. 


ACT    II.]        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  53 


Nils  Lykke. 
Good. 

[Points   to   the  entrance-door.      Finn  goes 
out. 

Jens  Bielke. 
Now,  by  my  soul,  dear  friend  and  brother — 
this  campaign  is  like  to  end  but  scurvily  for  both 
of  us. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[With  a  smile.]     Oh — not  for  me,  I  hope. 

Jens  Bielke. 

Say  you  so.''  First  of  all,  there  is  little  hon- 
our to  be  won  in  hunting  an  overgrown  whelp 
like  this  Nils  Sture.  Are  we  to  think  him  mad 
or  in  his  sober  senses  after  the  pranks  he  has 
played?  First  he  breeds  bad  blood  among  the 
peasants ;  promises  them  help  and  all  their  hearts 
can  desire; — and  then,  when  it  comes  to  the 
pinch,  off  he  runs  to  hide  behind  a  petticoat! 

Moreover,  to  say  truth,  I  repent  that  I  fol- 
lowed your  counsel  and  went  not  my  own  way. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[To  himself.]      Your  repentance  comes  some- 
what late,  my  brother ! 

Jens  Bielke. 
For,  let  me  tell  you,  I  have  never  loved  dig- 
ging at   a   badger's    earth.      I    looked    for   quite 
other   sport.      Here   h.ave    I    ridden    all   the   way 
from   Ja-mteland   with   my  horsemen,   and   have 


54  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    II. 


got  me  a  warrant  from  the  Trondhiem  command- 
ant to  search  for  the  rebel  wheresoever  I  please. 
All  his  tracks  point  towards  Ostrat 

Nils  Lykke. 
He  is  here!     He  is  here,  I  tell  you! 

Jens  Bielke. 

Were  it  not  liker,  in  that  case,  that  we  had 
found  the  gate  barred  and  well  guarded? 
Would  that  we  had ;  then  could  I  have  found 
use  for  my  men-at-arms 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  instead,  the  gate  is  very  courteously 
tlirown  open  to  us.  ]Mark  now — if  Inger  Gyl- 
denlove's  fame  belie  her  not,  I  warrant  she  will 
not  let  her  guests  lack  for  either  meat  or  drink. 

Jens  Bielke. 

Ay,  to  turn  us  aside  from  our  errand !  And 
what  wild  whim  was  that  of  yours  to  havp  me 
leave  my  horsemen  half  a  league  from  the 
castle.''     Had  we  come  in  force 

Nils  Lykke. 

She  had  made  us  none  tlie  less  welcome  for 
that.  But  mark  well  tliat  then  our  coming 
liad  made  a  stir.  The  peasants  round  about  had 
held  it  for  an  outrage  against  Lady  Inger;  slie 
liad  risen  high  in  tlieir  favour  once  more — and 
with  that,  look  you,  we  were  ill  served. 


II.]        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  55 


Jens  Bielke. 


May  be  so.  But  what  am  I  to  do  now.'' 
Count  Sture  is  in  Ostrat,  you  say.  Ay,  but  how 
does  that  profit  me.''  Be  sure  Lady  Inger  Gyl- 
denlove  has  as  many  hiding-places  as  the  fox, 
and  more  than  one  outlet  to  them.  You  and  I, 
alone,  may  go  snuffing  about  here  as  long  as  we 
please.     I  would  the  devil  had  the  whole  affair ! 

Nils  Lykke. 

Well,  then,  my  friend — if  you  like  not  the 
turn  your  errand  has  taken,  you  have  but  to 
leave  the  field  to  me. 

Jens  Bielke. 
To  you  ?     What  will  you  do  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Caution  and  cunning  may  in  this  matter  prove 
of  more  avail  than  force  of  arms. — And  to  say 
truth.  Captain  Jens  Bielke — something  of  the 
sort  has  been  in  my  mind  ever  since  we  met  in 
Trondhiera  yesterday. 

Jens  Bielke. 

Was  that  why  you  persuaded  me  to  leave  the 
men-at-arms .'' 

Nils  Lykke. 

Both  your  purpose  at  Ostrat  and  mine  could 
best  be  served  without  them ;  and  so 


56  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [a( 


Jens  Birlke. 


The  foul  fiend  seize  you — I  had  ahuost  said ! 
And  me  to  boot !  Might  I  not  have  known  that 
there  is  guile  in  all  your  dealings? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Be  sure  I  shall  need  all  my  guile  here,  if  I 
am  to  face  my  foe  with  even  weapons.  And  let 
me  tell  you,  'tis  of  the  utmost  moment  to  me  that 
I  acquit  me  of  my  mission  secretly  and  well. 
You  must  know  that  when  I  set  forth  I  was 
scarce  in  favour  with  my  lord  the  King.  He 
held  me  in  suspicion ;  though  I  dare  swear 
I  have  served  him  as  well  as  any  man  could,  in 
more  than  one  ticklish  charge. 

Jens  Bielke. 

That  you  may  safelj'  boast.  God  and  all  men 
know  you  for  the  craftiest  devil  in  all  the  three 
kingdoms. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  thank  you !  Though,  after  all,  'tis  not  much 
to  say.  But  this  present  errand  I  count  as  in- 
deed a  crowning  test  of  uiy  powers;  for  here  I 
have  to  outwit  a  woman 

Jens  Bielke. 

Ha-ha-ha !  In  that  art  you  have  long  since 
given  crowning  })roofs  of  your  skill,  dear 
brother.  Think  you  we  in  Sweden  know  not  the 
song — 


ACT    1 1.  J        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


Fair  maidens  a-many  they  sigh  and  they  pine: 
"  Ah   God,   that   Nils   Lykke   were   mine,   mine, 
mine !  " 

Nils  Lykke. 

Alas,  'tis  women  of  twenty  and  thereabouts 
that  ditty  speaks  of.  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove 
is  nigh  on  fifty,  and  wily  to  boot  beyond  all 
women.  'Twill  be  no  light  matter  to  overmatch 
her.  But  it  must  be  done — at  any  cost. 
Should  I  contrive  to  Man  certain  advantages  over 
her  that  the  King  has  long  desired,  I  can  reckon 
on  the  embassy  to  France  next  spring.  You 
know  that  I  spent  three  years  at  the  University 
in  Paris.''  My  whole  soul  is  set  on  coming 
thither  again,  most  of  all  if  I  can  appear  in 
lofty  place,  a  king's  ambassador. — ^Well,  then — 
is  it  agreed — do  you  leave  Lady  Inger  to  me? 
Remember— when  you  were  last  at  Court  in 
Copenhagen,  I  made  way  for  you  with  more 
than  one  fair  lady 

Jens  Bielke. 
Nay,  truly  now— that  generosity  cost  you  lit- 
tle; one  and  all  of  them  were  at  your  beck  and 
call.  But  let  that  pass ;  now  that  I  have  begun 
amiss  in  this  matter,  I  had  as  lief  that  you 
should  take  it  on  your  shoulders.  Yet  one 
thing  you  must  promise — if  the  young  Count 
Sture  be  in  Ostrat,  you  will  deliver  him  into 
my  hands,  dead  or  alive ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  shall  have  him  all  alive.      I,  at  any  rate, 
mean  not  to  kill  him.      But  now   vou  must  ride 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [ACT    II. 


back  and  join  your  people.  Keep  guard  on  the 
road.  Should  I  mark  aught  that  mislikes  me, 
you  shall  know  it  forthwith. 

Jens  Bielke. 
Good,  good.     But  how  am  I  to  get  out ? 


Nils  Lykke. 

The  fellow  that  brought  us  in  will  show  the 
way.     But  go  quietly 

Jens  Bielke. 

Of  course,  of  course.  Well — good  fortune  to 
you! 

Nils  Lykke. 

Fortune  has  never  failed  me  in  a  war  with 
women.     Haste  you  now  ! 

[Jens  Bielke  goes  out  to  the  right. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Stands  still  for  a  while;  then  walks  about  the 
room,  looking  round  him;  then  he  says  softly:] 
At  last,  then,  I  am  at  Ostrat — the  ancient  hall 
whereof  a  child,  two  years  ago,  told  me  so  much. 

Lucia.  Ay,  two  years  ago  she  was  still  a 
child.  And  now — now  she  is  dead.  [Hums 
with  a  half-smile.]  "  Blossoms  plucked  are 
blossoms  withered —  - — " 

[Looks   round   him  again. 

Ostrat.  'Tis  as  though  I  had  seen  it  all  be- 
fore; as  though  I  were  at  home  here. — In  there 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  5.0 


is  the  Banquet  Hall.      And  underneath  is — the 
grave-vault.     It  must  be  there  that  Lucia  lies. 

[In  a  lower  voice,  half  seriously,  half  with 
forced  gaiety. 

Were  I  timorous,  I  might  well  find  myself 
fancying  that  when  I  set  foot  within  Ostrat  gate 
she  turned  about  in  her  coffin ;  as  I  crossed  the 
courtyard  she  lifted  the  lid ;  and  when  I  named 
her  name  but  now,  'twas  as  though  a  voice  sum- 
moned her  forth  from  the  grave-vault. — Maybe 
she  is  even  now  groping  her  way  up  the  stairs. 
The  face-cloth  blinds  her,  but  she  gropes  on 
and  on  in  spite  of  it. 

Now  she  has  reached  the  Banquet  Hall !  She 
stands  watching  me  from  behind  the  door ! 

[Turns  his  head  backwards  over  one  shoul- 
der, nods,  and  says  aloud: 

Come  nearer,  Lucia !  Talk  to  me  a  little ! 
Your  mother  keeps  me  Avaiting.  'Tis  tedious 
waiting — -and  you  have  helped  me  to  while  away 
many  a  tedious  hour 

[Passes    his    hand   over   his   forehead,    and 
takes  one  or  two  turns  up  and  down. 

Ah,  there!- — Right,  right;  there  is  the  deep 
curtained  window.  'Tis  there  that  Inger  Gyl- 
denlove  is  wont  to  stand  gazing  out  over  the 
road,  as  though  looking  for  one  that  never 
comes.  In  there — [looks  towards  the  door  on 
the  left] — somewhere  in  there  is  Sister  Elina's 
chamber.     Elina  ?     Ay,  Elina  is  her  name. 

Can  it  be  that  she  is  so  rare  a  being — so  wise 
and  so  brave  as  Lucia  fancied  her?     Fair,  too, 


60  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [ ACT    II. 


they  say.     But  for  a  wedded  wife — ?     I  should 

not  have  written  so  plainly. 

[Lost  in  thought,  he  is  on  the  point  of  sit- 
ting  down   by    the   table,   but   stands   up 
again. 
How  will  Lady  Inger  receive  me? — She  will 
scarce  burn  the   castle  over  our   heads,  or   slip 
me    through    a    trap-door.      A    stab    from    be- 
hind— .''     No,  not  that  way  either 

[Listens  towards  the  hall. 
Aha! 

[Lady    Inger    Gyldenlove    enters    from 
the  hall. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Coldly.]      My  greeting  to  you.  Sir  Council- 
lor  

Nils  Lykke. 
[Bows  deeply.]     Ah — the  Lady  of  Ostrat! 

Lady  Inger. 
-and  my  thanks  that  you  have  forewarned 


me  of  your  visit. 

Nils  Lykke. 
I   could   do   no   less.      I   had  reason   to   think 
that  my  coming  might  surprise  you 

Lady  Inger. 
Truly,    Sir    Councillor,    therein    you    judged 
aright.      Nils   Lykke  was   indeed  the  last  guest 
I  looked  to  see  at  Ostrat. 


ACT  II.l    LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT.      6l 


Nils  Lykke. 

And  still  less,  mayhap,  did  you  think  to  see 
him  come  as  a  friend? 

Lady  Inger. 
As   a   friend?      You   add   mockery  to   all  the 
shame   and   sorrow   you   have   heaped   upon   my 
house  ?     After  bringing  my  child  to  the  grave, 
you  still  dare 

Nils  Lykke. 
With  your  leave,  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove — 
on  that  matter  we  should  scarce  agree;  for  you 
count  as  nothing  what  /  lost  by  that  same  un- 
happy chance.  I  purposed  nought  but  in  hon- 
our. I  was  tired  of  my  unbridled  life;  my  thir- 
tieth year  was  already  past;  I  longed  to  mate 
me  with  a  good  and  gentle  wife.  Add  to  all  this 
the  hope  of  becoming  your  son-in-law 

Lady  Inger. 

Beware,   Sir  Councillor !      I   have  done  all  in 

my    power    to    hide    my    child's    unhappy    fate. 

But  because   it  is   out  of  sight,  think   not  it  is 

out  of  mind.     There  may  yet  come  a  time 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  threaten  me,   Lady   Inger?      I   have   of- 
fered you  my  hand  in  amity ;  you  refuse  to  take 
it.      Henceforth,  then,  it  is  to  be  open  war  be- 
tween us  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
I  knew  not  there  had  ever  been  aught  else? 


62  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


Nils  Lykke. 
Not   on   your   side,   mayhap.      I  have   never 
been  your  enemy, — though,  as  a  subject  of  the 
King  of  Denmark,  I  lacked  not  good  cause. 

Lady  Inger. 
I  understand  you.  I  have  not  been  pliant 
enough.  It  has  not  proved  so  easy  as  some  of 
you  hoped  to  lure  me  over  into  your  camp. — 
Yet  methinks  you  have  nought  to  complain  of. 
My  daughter  Merete's  husband  is  your  country- 
man— further  I  cannot  go.  ^ly  position  is  no 
easy  one.  Nils  Lykke ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
That    I    can   well   believe.      Both    nobles    and 
people  here  in  Norwa}^  think  they  have  an  an- 
cient claim  on  vou — a  claim,  'tis  said,  you  have 
but  half  fulfilled. 

Lady  Inger. 
Your  pardon,   Sir   Councillor, — I   account   for 
my  doings  to  none  but  God  and  myself.      If  it 
please  you,  tlien,  let  me  understand  what  brings 
you  hither. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Gladly,    Lady    Inger !      The    purpose    of   my 
mission  to  this  country  can  scarce  be  unknown 

to  you .'' 

Lady  Inger. 
I   know  the  mission   that  report   assigns   you. 
Our  King  would  fain  know  how  the  Norwegian 
nobles  stand  affected  towards  him. 


ACT  II.]    LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT.      63 


Nils  Lykke. 
Assuredly. 

Lady  Inger. 
Then  that  is  why  you  visit  Ostrat? 

Nils  Lykke. 
In  part.      But  it  is   far  from  my  purpose  to 
demand  any  profession  of  loyalty  from  you 

Lady  Inger. 
What  then  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Hearken  to  me.  Lady  Inger !  You  said  your- 
self but  now  that  your  position  is  no  easy  one. 
You  stand  half  way  between  two  hostile  camps, 
whereof  neither  dares  trust  you  fully.  Your 
own  interest  must  needs  bind  you  to  us.  On 
the  other  hand,  you  are  bound  to  the  disaffected 
by  the  bond  of  nationality,  and — who  knows  ^ — 
mayhap  by  some  secret  tie  as  well. 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  herself.]  A  secret  tie!  Oh  God,  can 
he } 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Notices  her  emotion,  but  makes  no  sign,  and 
continues  without  change  of  manner.]  You  can- 
not but  see  that  such  a  position  must  ere  long 
become  impossible. — Suppose,  now,  it  lay  in  my 
power  to  free  you  from  these  embarrassments 
which 


64  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    II. 


Lady  Inger, 
In  your  power,  you  say? 

Nils  Lykke. 
First  of  all,  Lady  Inger,  I  would  beg  you  to 
lay  no  stress  on  any  careless  words  I  may  have 
used  coneerning  that  which  lies  between  us  two. 
Think  not  that  I  have  forgotten  for  a  moment 
the  wrong  I  have  done  you.  Suppose,  now,  I 
had  long  purposed  to  make  atonement,  as  far 
as  might  be,  where  I  had  sinned.  Suppose  it 
were  for  that  reason  I  had  contrived  to  have 
this  mission  assigned  me. 

Lady  Inger. 
Speak  your  meaning  more  clearly.  Sir  Coun- 
cillor;— I  cannot  follow  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  can  scarce  be  mistaken  in  thinking  that  you, 
as  well  as  I,  know  of  the  threatened  troubles  in 
Sweden.  You  know,  or  at  least  you  can  guess, 
that  this  rising  is  of  far  wider  aim  than  is  com- 
monly supposed,  and  you  understand  therefore 
that  our  King  cannot  look  on  quietly  and  let 
things  take  their  course.     Am  I  not  right? 

Lady  Inger. 
Go  on. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Searchingly,  after  a  short  pause.]      There  is 
one  possible  chance  that  might  endanger  Gus- 
tav  Vasa's  throne 


ACT    II.]        LADY      INGER     OF      OSTRAT.  65 


Lady  Inger. 
[To  herself.]     Whither  is  he  tending? 

Nils  Lykke. 

the    chance^    namely,    that    there    should 

exist  in  Sweden  a  man  entitled  by  his  birth  to 
claim  election  to  the  kingship. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Evasively.]      The  Swedish  nobles  have  been 
even   as    bloodily   hewn   down   as   our   own,    Sir 
Councillor.     Where  would  you  seek  for ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
[With  a  smile.]      Seek?     The  man  is   found 
already 

Lady  Inger. 
[Starts  violently.]     Ah!     He  is  found? 

Nils  Lykke. 
-and  he  is  too  closely  akin  to  you.  Lady 


Inger,   to    be    far    from    your   thoughts    at    this 
moment.                                    [Looks  fixedly  at  her. 
The  last  Count  Sture  left  a  son 

Lady  Inger, 
[With    a    cry.]       Holy    Saviour,    how    know 

you ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Surprised.]      Be  calm,   Madam,   and  let  me 
finish. — This    young    man    has    till    now    lived 
quietly  with  his  mother,  Sten  Sture's  widow. 


66  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    II. 


Lady  Inger. 
[Breathes  more  freely.]      With—?      Ah,  yes 
— true,  true ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  now  he  has  come  forward  openly.  He 
has  shown  himself  in  the  Dales  as  leader  of  the 
peasants;  their  numbers  are  growing  day  by 
day ;  and — as  mayhap  j-ou  know — they  are  find- 
ing friends  among  the  j^easants  on  this  side  of 
the  border-hills. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Who  has  in  the  meantime  regained  her  com- 
posure.] Sir  Councillor, — you  speak  of  all  these 
matters  as  though  they  must  of  necessity  be 
known  to  me.  What  ground  have  I  given  you 
to  believe  so.''  I  know,  and  wish  to  know,  noth- 
ing. All  my  care  is  to  live  quietly  within  my 
own  domain;  I  give  no  countenance  to  disturb- 
ers of  the  peace;  but  neither  must  you  reckon 
on  me  if  it  be  your  purpose  to  suppress  them. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[In  a  low  voice.]     Would  you  still  be  inactive, 
were  it  my  purpose  to  come  to  their  aid.'* 

Lady  Inger. 
How  am  I  to  understand  you? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Have  you  not  seen,  then,  whither  I  have  been 
aiming  all  this  time? — Well,  I  will  tell  you  all, 
frankly  and  openly.     Know,  then,  that  the  King 


ACT    1 1.  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


67 


and  his  Council  see  clearly  that  we  can  have  no 
sure  footing  in  Norway  so  long  as  the  nobles 
and  the  people  continue,  as  now,  to  think  them- 
selves wronged  and  oppressed.  We  understand 
to  the  full  that  willing  allies  are  better  than  sul- 
len subjects;  and  we  have  therefore  no  heartier 
wish  than  to  loosen  the  bonds  that  hamper  uSj 
in  effect,  even  as  straitly  as  you.  But  you  will 
scarce  deny  that  the  temper  of  Norway  towards 
us  makes  such  a  step  too  dangerous — so  long  as 
we  have  no  sure  support  behind  us. 

Lady  Inger. 
And  this  support .'' 

Nils  Lykke. 

Should  naturalh'^  come  from  Sweden.  But, 
mark  well,  not  so  long  as  Gustav  Vasa  holds  the 
helm;  his  reckoning  with  Denmark  is  not  yet 
settled,  and  mayhap  never  will  be.  But  a  new 
king  of  Sweden,  who  had  the  people  with  him, 
and  who  owed  his  throne  to  the  help  of  Den- 
mark  .     Well,  you  begin  to  understand  me? 

Then  we  could  safely  say  to  you  Norwegians: 
"  Take  back  your  old  ancestral  riglits ;  choose 
you  a  ruler  after  your  own  mind ;  be  our  friends 
in  need,  as  we  will  be  yours !  " — Mark  you  well. 
Lady  Inger,  herein  is  our  generosity  less  tlian 
it  may  seem ;  for  you  must  see  that,  far  from 
weakening,  'twill  rather  strengthen  us. 

And  now  that  I  have  opened  my  heart  to  you 
so  fully,  do  you  too  cast  away  all  mistrust. 
And  therefore  [rovfideutli/] — the  knight  from 
Sweden,  wlio  came  liither  an  hour  before  me 


68  I,ADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT 


Lady  Inger. 
Then  you  already  know  of  his  coming? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Most  certainly.     'Tis  he  whom  I  seek. 

Lady  Inger. 
[To  herself.]      Strange!     Then  it  must  be  as 
Olaf    Skaktavl    said.       [To    Nils    Lykke.]       I 
pray  you  wait  here.  Sir  Councillor !      I   will  go 
bring  him  to  you. 

[Goes  out  through  the  Banquet  Hall. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Looks  after  her  a  while  in  exultant  astonish- 
ment.] She  is  bringing  him!  Ay,  truly — she 
is  bringing  him !  The  battle  is  half  won.  I 
little  thought  it  would  go  so  smoothly. — 

She  is  deep  in  the  counsels  of  the  rebels ;  she 
started  in  terror  when  I  named  Sten  Sture's 
son. — 

And  now.''  H'm !  Since  Lady  Inger  has  been 
simple  enough  to  walk  into  the  snare,  Nils  Sture 
will  not  make  many  difficulties.  A. hot-blooded 
boy,  thoughtless  and  rasli .  With  my  prom- 
ise of  help  he  will  set  forth  at  once— unhappily 
Jens  Bielke  will  snaji  liim  up  by  the  way — and 
the  whole  rising  will  be  nipped  in  the  bud. 

And  then  ?  Then  one  further  point  to  our 
advantage.  It  is  spread  abroad  that  the  vounGi; 
Count  Sture  has  been  at  Ostrfit, — that  a  Danish 
envoy  lias  had  audience  of  I>ady  Ingt^r — tli't 
thereupon     the     young     Count     Nils     has     been 


ACT  II.]    LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT.      69 

snapped    up    by    King   Gustav's    men-at-arms    a 

mile  from  the  castle. Let  Inger  Gylden- 

love's   name   among  the   people   stand   never   so 
high — 'twill  scarce  recover  from  such  a  blow. 

[Starts  tip  in  sudden  uneasiness. 
By  all  the  devils — !  What  if  she  has  scented 
mischief !  It  may  be  he  is  even  now  slipping 
through  our  fingers —  [Listens  towards  the 
hall,  and  says  with  relief.]  Ah^  there  is  no 
fear.      Here  they  come. 

[Lady    Inger    Gyldenlove    enters    from 
the    hall,    accompanied    by    Olaf    Skak- 

TAVL. 

Lady  Inger. 
[To    Nils    Lykke.]       Here   is    the   man   you 
seek. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Aside.]      Powers  of  hell — what  means  this? 

Lady  Inger. 
I   have   told   this   knight   your   name   and   all 
that  you  have  imparted  to  me 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Irresolutely.]    Ay.''    Have  you  so?   Well 


Lady  Inger. 
-and    I   will   not  hide   from   you   that   his 


faith  in  your  help  is  none  of  the  strongest. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Is  it  not? 


70  LADY      INGEK      OF      OSTUAT.        [aCT    II. 


Lady  Inger. 


Can   you  marvel  at  that?      Surely  you  know 
both  his  way  of  thinking  and  his  bitter  fate 

Nils  Lykke. 
This  man's — ?     Ah — yes,  truly 


Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[To  Nils  Lykke.]  But  seeing  'tis  Peter 
Kanzler  himself  that  has  appointed  us  this 
meeting 

Nils  Lykke. 

Peter  Kanzler — ?  [Recovers  himself  quicJdy.] 
Ay,  right, — I  have  a  mission  from  Peter  Kanz- 
ler  

Olaf   Skaktavl. 

He  must  know  best  whom  he  can  trust.  So 
wliy  should  I  trouble  my  head  with  pondering 
how 

Nils  Lykke. 

Ay,  you  are  right,  noble  Sir;  why  waste  time 
over  that.'' 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
Rather  let  us  come  straight  to  the  matter. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Straight  to  the  point;  no  beating  about  the 
bush — 'tis  ever  my  fashion. 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  71 


Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Then  will  you  tell  me  your  errand  here? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Methinks  you  can  partly  guess  my  errand- 


Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Peter     Kanzler     said     something     of     papers 

that 

Nils  Lykke. 
Papers  ?     Ay,  true,  the  papers  ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Doubtless  you  have  them  with  you? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Of  course;  safely  bestowed;  so  safely  that  I 
cannot  at  once 


[Appears  to  search  the  inner  pockets  of  his 
doublet;  says  to  himself: 
Who  the   devil   is   he.''      What   pretext   can   I 
make?     I  may  be  on  the  brink  of  great  discov- 
eries  

[Notices  that  the  Servants  are  laying  the 
table  and  lighting  the  lamps  in  the  Ban- 
quet Hall,  and  says  to  Olaf  Skaktavl: 

Ah,  I  see  Lady  Inger  has  taken  order  for  the 
evening  meal.  Mayhap  we  could  better  talk  of 
our  affairs  at  table. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Good;  as  you  will. 


72  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTrAt.        [aCT    II. 


Nils  Lykke. 
[Aside.]     Time  gained — all  gained! 

[To    Lady    Inger    with    a    show    of   great 
friendliness: 

And  meanwhile  we  might  learn  what  part 
Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  purposes  to  take  in  our 
design  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  ? — None. 

Nils  Lykke  and  Olaf  Skaktavl. 
None! 

Lady  Inger. 
Can    ye    marvel,    noble    Sirs,    that    I    venture 
not  on  a  game  wherein  loss  would  mean  loss  of 
all?     And  that,  too,  when  none  of  my  allies  dare 
trust  me  fully. 

Nils  Lykke. 
That  reproach  touches  not  me.      I  trust  you 
blindly;  I  pray  you  be  assured  of  that. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Who  should  believe  in  you,  if  not  your  coun- 
trymen } 

Lady  Inger. 
Truly, — this  confidence  rejoices  me. 

[Goes  to  a  cupboard  in  the  back  wall  and 
fills  two  goblets  with  wine. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Aside.]     Curse  her,  will  she  slip  out  of  the 
noose  ? 


ACT  II.]    LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT.      73 


Lady  Inger. 

[Hands  a  goblet  to  each.]  And  since  so  it 
is,  I  offer  you  a  cup  of  welcome  to  Ostrat. 
Drink,  noble  knights !  Pledge  me  to  the  last 
drop ! 

[Looks   from   one   to   the   other   after   they 
have  drunk,  and  says  gravely: 
But  now  I  must  tell  you — one  goblet  held   a 
welcome    for    my    friend;    the    other — death    for 
my  enemy ! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Throws  down  the  goblet.]  Ah,  I  am  poi- 
soned ! 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 

[At  the  same  time,  clutches  his  sword.] 
Death  and  hell,  have  you  murdered  me? 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Olaf  Skaktavl,  pointing  to  Nils 
Lykke.]  You  see  the  Danes'  confidence  in 
Inger  Gyldenldve 

[To  Nils  Lykke,  pointing  to  Olaf  Skak- 
tavl.]      and  likewise  my  countrymen's  faith 

in  me  !  [  To  both  of  them. 

Yet  you  would  have  me  place  myself  in  your 
power  ?  Gently,  noble  Sirs — gently  !  The  Lady 
of  Ostrat  is  not  yet  in  her  dotage. 

[Elina  Gyldenlove  enters  by  the  door  on 
the  left. 

Elina. 
I  heard  loud  voices — .     What  is  amiss  ? 


74  LADY      INGEU      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    II. 


Lady  Inger. 
[To  Nils  Lykke.]     My  daughter  Elina. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Softly.]      Elina!      I    had   not    pictured   her 
thus. 

[Elina  catches  sight  of  Nils  Lykke,  and 
.    stands  still,  as  in  surprise,  gazing  at  him. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Touches  her  arm.]      My  child — this  knight 


Elina. 
[Motions  her  mother  back  with  her  hand,  still 
looking  intently  at  him,  and  says:]     There  is  no 
need!     I  see  who  he  is.     He  is  Nils  Lykke. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Aside,  to  Lady  Inger.]      How.^      Does  she 
know     me?       Can     Lucia     have — ?       Can     she 

know } 

Lady  Inger. 
Hush  !     She  knows  nothing. 

Elina. 
[To  herself.]     I  knew  it; — even  so  must  Nils 
Lykke  appear. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Approaches   her.]      Yes,    Elina    Gyldenlove, 
— you   have    guessed    aright.      And    as    it   seems 
that,  in  some  sense,  you  know  me, — and,  more- 


II.]        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


over,  as  I  am  your  mother's  guest, — you  will 
not  deny  me  the  flower-spray  you  wear  in  your 
bosom.  So  long  as  it  is  fresh  and  fragrant,  I 
shall  have  in  it  an  image  of  yourself. 

Elina. 

[Proudly,  but  still  gacing  at  him.^  Pardon 
me.  Sir  Knight — 'twas  plucked  in  my  own  cham- 
ber, and  there  can  grow  no  flower  for  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Loosening  a  spray  of  flomers  that  he  wears 
in  the  front  of  his  doublet.]  At  least  j'ou  will 
not  disdain  this  humble  gift.  'Twas  a  farewell 
token  from  a  courtly  dame  when  I  set  forth 
from  Trondhiem  this  morning. — But  mark  me, 
noble  maiden, — were  I  to  off'er  you  a  gift  that 
were  fully  worthy  of  you,  it  could  be  nought 
less  than  a  princely  crown. 

Elina. 

[Who  has  taJcen  the  flowers  passively.]  And 
were  it  the  royal  crown  of  Denmark  you  held 
forth  to  me — before  I  shared  it  with  you,  I 
would  crush  it  to  pieces  between  my  hands,  and 
cast  the  fragments  at  your  feet ! 

[Throws  down  the  flowers  at  his  feet,  and 
goes  into  the  Banquet  Hall. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Mutters  to  himself.]  Bold — as  Inger  Ottis- 
daughter  by  Knut  Alfson's  bier ! 


76  LADY     INGER     OF     OSTRAT.        [aCTII. 


Lady  Inger. 
[Softly,   offer   looking   alternately    at    Elina 
and  Nils   Lykke.]      The  wolf  can   be  tamed. 
Now  to  forge  the  fetters. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[PicJcs  up   the  flowers   and  gazes   in   rapture 
after    Elina.]      God's    holy    blood,    but   she    is 
proud  and  fair ! 


ACT    THIRD 

The  Banquet  Hall.  A  high  bow-window  in  the 
background;  a  smaller  window  in  front  on 
the  left.  Several  doors  on  each  side.  The 
ceiling  is  supported  by  massive  wooden  pil- 
lars, on  which,  as  well  as  on  the  walls,  are 
hung  all  sorts  of  weapons.  Pictures  of 
saints,  knights,  and  ladies  hang  in  long 
rows.  Pendent  from,  the  ceiling  a  large 
many-branched  lamp,  alight.  In  front,  on 
the  right,  an  ancient  carven  high-seat.  In 
the  middle  of  the  hall,  a  table  with  the  rem- 
nants of  the  evening  meal. 

Elina  Gyldenlove  enters  from  the  left,  slowly 
and  in  deep  thought.  Her  expression  shows 
that  she  is  going  over  again  in  her  mind 
the  scene  with  Nils  Lykke.  At  last  she 
repeats  the  motion  with  which  she  flung 
away  the  flowers,  and  says  in  a  low  voice: 

Elina. 

And  then  he  gathered  up  the  fragments 

of  the  crown  of  Denmark — no,  'twas  the  flowers 
— and :  "  God's  holy  blood,  but  she  is  proud  and 
fair !  " 

Had  he  whispered  the  words  in  the  most 
secret  spot,  long  leagues  from  Ostrat, — still  had 
I  heard  them ! 

77 


78  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCT    III, 


How  I  hate  him !  How  I  have  always  hated 
him, — this  Nils  Lykke  !• — There  lives  not  an- 
other man  like  him,  'tis  said.  He  plays  with 
women — and  treads  them  under  his    feet. 

And  'twas  to  him  my  mother  thought  to  offer 
me  ! — How  I  hate  him  ! 

They  say  Nils  Lykke  is  unlike  all  other  men. 
It  is  not  true !  There  is  nothing  strange  in  him. 
There  are  many,  many  like  him !  When  Biorn 
used  to  tell  me  his  tales,  all  the  princes  looked 
as  Nils  Lykke  looks.  When  I  sat  lonely  here 
in  the  hall  and  dreamed  my  histories,  and  my 
knights  came  and  went, — they  were  one  and  all 
even  as  he. 

How  strange  and  how  good  it  is  to  hate ! 
Never  have  I  known  how  sweet  it  can  be — till 
to-night.  Ah — not  to  live  a  thousand  years 
would  I  sell  the  moments  I  have  lived  since  I 
saw  him  ! — - 

"  God's  holy  blood,  but  she  is  proud " 

[Goes  slo7vly  towards  the  hack,  opens  the 
window  and  looks  out.  Nils  Lykke 
comes  in  hy  the  first  door  on  the  right. 

Nils  Lykke. 
\To    himself.^      "  Sleep   well   at  Ostrat,    Sir 
Knight,"  said  Inger  Gyldenlove  as  she  left  me. 

Sleep  well  ?     Ay,  'tis  easily  said,  but Out 

there,  sky  and  sea  in  tumult;  below,  in  the 
grave-vault,  a  young  girl  on  her  bier ;  the  fate 
of  two  kingdoms  in  my  hand ; — and  in  my  breast 
a  withered  flower  that  a  woman  has  flung  at  my 
feet.  Truly,  I  fear  me  sleep  will  be  slow  of 
coming. 


ACT    III.]        LADY     INGEU     OF      OSTRAT.  79 

[Notices  Elina,  who  has  left  the  window, 
and  is  goi?2g  out  on  the  left. 
There   slie   is.      Her   haughty   eyes   seem   veiled 
with  thought. — Ah,  if  I  but  dared — .      [Aloud.] 
Mistress  Elina ! 

Elina. 
[Stops  at  the  door.]      What  will  you.''     Why 
do  you  pursue  me.'' 

Nils  Lykke. 
You   err;    I    pursue   you   not.      I    am   myself 
pursued. 

Elina. 
You.? 

Nils  Lykke. 
By  a  multitude  of  thoughts.      Therefore   'tis 
with  sleep  as  with  you: — it  flees  me. 

Elina. 
Go   to   the  window,   and  there   you   will   find 
pastime; — a  storm-tossed  sea 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Smiles.]     A  storm-tossed  sea?     That  may  J 
find  in  you  as  well. 

Elina. 
In  me? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ay,  of  that  our  first  meeting  has  assured  me. 

Elina. 
And  that  offends  you? 


80  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCT    III. 


Nils  Lykke. 


Nay,  in  nowise;  yet  I  could  wish  to  see  you 
of  milder  mood. 

Elina. 

[Proudly.]  Think  you  that  you  will  ever 
have  your  wish.'' 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  am  sure  of  it.  I  have  a  welcome  word  to 
say  to  you. 

Elina. 
What  is  it? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Farewell. 

Elina. 

[Comes  a  step  nearer  him.]  Farewell?  You 
are  leaving  Ostrat — so  soon? 

Nils  Lykke. 
This  very  night. 

Elina. 

[Seems  to  hesitate  for  a  moment;  then  says 
coldly.]      Then  take  my  greeting,   Sir   Knight! 

[Bows  and  is  about  to  go. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Elina  Gyldenlove, — I  have  no  right  to  keep 
you  here;  but  'twill  be  unlike  your  nobleness  if 
you  refuse  to  hear  what  I  have  to  say  to  you. 


ACT    III.]        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


Elina. 
I  hear  you.  Sir  Knight. 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  know  you  hate  me. 

Elina. 
You  are  keen-sighted,  I  perceive. 

Nils  Lykke. 
But   I   know,  too,  that  I   have   fully  merited 
your  hate.      Unseemly  and  wounding  were  the 
words    I    wrote    of   you   in   my   letter   to    Lady 
Inger. 

Elina. 
Like  enough;  I  have  not  read  them. 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  at  least  their  purport  is  not  unknown  to 
you;  I  know  your  mother  has  not  left  you  in 
ignorance  of  the  matter;  at  the  least  she  has 
told  you  how  I  praised  the  lot  of  the  man 
who — ;  surely  you  know  the  hope  I  nursed — 

Elina. 
Sir  Knight — if  'tis  of  that  you  would  speak — 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  speak  of  it,  only  to  ask  pardon  for  my 
words;  for  no  other  reason,  I  swear  to  you.  If 
my  fame — as  I  have  too  much  cause  to  fear — 
has  gone  before  me  to  Ostrat,  you  must  needs 
know  enough  of  my  life  not  to  wonder  that  in 


82  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.      [aCT    III. 


such  things  I  should  go  to  work  something  bold- 
ly. I  have  met  many  women,  Elina  Gyldenlove; 
but  not  one  have  I  found  unyielding.  Such  les- 
sons, look  you,  teach  a  man  to  be  secure.  He 
loses  the  habit  of  roundabout  ways 

Elina. 

May  be  so.  I  know  not  of  what  metal  those 
women  can  have  been  made. 

For  the  rest,  you  err  in  thinking  'twas  your 
letter  to  my  mother  that  aroused  my  soul's  hatred 
and  bitterness  against  you.     It  is  of  older  date. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Uneasily.]  Of  older  date?  What  mean 
you.? 

Elina. 

'Tis  as  you  guessed: — your  fame  has  gone  be- 
fore you,  to  Ostrat,  even  as  over  all  the  land. 
Nils  Lykke's  name  is  never  spoken  save  with 
the  name  of  some  woman  whom  he  has  beguiled 
and  cast  off.  Some  speak  it  in  wrath,  others 
with  laughter  and  wanton  jeering  at  those  weak- 
souled  creatures.  But  through  the  wrath  and 
the  laughter  and  the  jeers  rings  the  song  they 
have  made  of  you,  full  of  insolent  challenge,  like 
an  enemy's  song  of  triumph. 

'Tis  all  this  together  that  has  begotten  my 
hate  for  you.  You  were  ever  in  my  thoughts, 
and  ever  I  longed  to  meet  j^ou  face  to  face,  that 
you  might  learn  that  there  are  women  on  whom 
your  subtle  speeches  are  lost — if  you  should 
think  to  use  them. 


LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.  83 


Nils  Lykke. 


You  judge  me  unjustly,  if  you  judge  from 
what  rumour  has  told  of  me.  Even  if  there  be 
truth  in  all  you  have  heard, — you  know  not  the 
causes  behind  it. — As  a  boy  of  seventeen  I  be- 
gan my  course  of  pleasure.  I  have  lived  full 
fifteen  years  since  then.  Light  women  granted 
me  all  that  I  would — even  before  tlie  wish  had 
shaped  itself  into  a  prayer;  and  what  I  offered 
them  they  seized  with  eager  hands.  You  are 
the  first  woman  that  has  flung  back  a  gift  of 
mine  with  scorn  at  my  feet. 

Think  not  I  reproach  you.  Rather  I  honour 
you  for  it,  as  never  before  have  I  honoured 
woman.  But  for  tliis  I  reproach  my  fate— and 
the  thought  is  a  gnawing  pain  to  me — that  you 

and  I  were  not  sooner  brought  face  to  face. 

Elina  Gyldenlove !  Your  mother  has  told  me 
of  you.  While  far  from  Ostrj\t  life  ran  its  rest- 
less course,  you  went  your  lonely  way  in  silence, 
living  in  your  dreams  and  histories.  Therefore 
you  will  understand  what  I  have  to  tell  you. — 
Know,  then,  that  once  I  too  lived  even  such  a 
life  as  yours.  Methought  that  wlien  I  stepped 
forth  into  the  great  world,  a  noble  and  stately 
woman  would  come  to  meet  me,  and  would 
beckon  to  me  and  point  out  the  path  towards  a 
glorious  goal. — I  was  deceived,  Elina  Gylden- 
love! Women  came  to  meet  me;  but  she  was 
not  among  them.  Ere  yet  I  had  come  to  full 
manhood,  I  had  learnt  to  despise  them  all. 

Was  it  my  fault?  WMiy  were  not  the  others 
even  as  you-? — I  know  the  fate  of  your  f.ither- 
land  lies  heavy  on  your  soul;  and  you  know  the 


84  LADY     INGEU     OF      OSTHAT.       [aCT    III. 


part  I  have  in  these  afF.-iirs .      'Tis  said  of 

me  that  I  am  false  as  the  sea-foam.  Mayhap  I 
am;  but  if  I  be,  it  is  women  who  have  made 
me  so.  Had  I  sooner  found  what  I  sought, — 
had  I  met  a  woman  proud  and  noble  and  high- 
souled  even  as  you,  then  had  my  path  been  dif- 
ferent indeed.  At  this  moment,  maybe,  I  had 
been  standing  at  your  side  as  the  champion  of 
all  that  suffer  wrong  in  Norway's  land.  For 
this  I  believe:  a  woman  is  the  mightiest  power 
in  the  world,  and  in  her  hand  it  lies  to  guide 
a  man  whither  God  Almighty  would  have  him 

go- 

Elina. 

[  To  herself.  ]  Can  it  be  as  he  says  ?  Nay, 
nay;  there  is  falsehood  in  his  eyes  and  deceit 
on  his  lips.  And  yet — no  song  is  sweeter  than 
his  words. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Coming  closer,  speaks  low  and  more  inti- 
mately.^ As  you  have  dwelt  here  at  Ostrat, 
alone  with  your  changeful  thoughts,  how  often 
have  you  felt  your  bosom  stifling;  how  often 
have  the  roof  and  walls  seemed  to  shrink  to- 
gether till  they  crushed  your  very  soul.  Then 
have  your  longings  taken  wing  with  you ;  then 
liave  you  yearned  to  fly  far  from  here,  you  knew 
not  whither. — How  often  have  you  not  wan- 
dered alone  by  the  fiord ;  far  out  a  ship  has 
sailed  by  in  fair  array,  with  knights  and  ladies 
on  her  deck,  with  song  and  music  of  stringed 
instruments; — a  faint,  far-off  rumour  of  great 
events  has  reached  your  ears; — and  you  have 
felt  a  longing  in  your  breast,  an  unconquerable 


[I.]        LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.  85 


craving  to  know  all  that  lies  beyond  the  sea. 
But  you  have  not  understood  Avhat  ailed  you. 
At  times  you  have  thought  it  was  the  fate  of 
your  fatherland  that  filled  you  with  all  these 
restless  broodings.  You  deceived  yourself; — 
a  maiden  so  young  as   you  has  other   food  for 

musing. Elina    Gyldenlove !      Have    you 

never  had  visions  of  an  unknown  power — a 
strong  mysterious  might,  that  binds  together  the 
destinies  of  mortals  ?  When  you  dreamed  of 
the  many-coloured  life  far  out  in  the  wide  world 
■ — when  you  dreamed  of  knightly  jousts  and 
joyous  festivals — saw  you  never  in  your  dreams 
a  knight,  who  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  gayest 
rout,  with  a  smile  on  his  lips  and  with  bitter- 
ness in  his  heart,— a  knight  that  had  once 
dreamed  a  dream  as  fair  as  yours,  of  a  woman 
noble  and  stately,  for  whom  he  went  ever  a-seek- 
ing,  and  ever  in  vain.'' 

Elina. 

Who  are  you,  that  have  power  to  clothe  my 
most  secret  thoughts  in  words  ?  How  can  you 
tell  me  what  I  have  borne  in  my  inmost  soul — 
yet  knew  it  not  myself?     How  know  you ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

All  that  I  have  told  j^ou,  I  have  read  in  your 
eyes. 

Elina. 

Never  has  any  man  spoken  to  me  as  you  have 
spoken.  I  have  understood  you  but  dimly;  and 
yet — all,  all  seems  changed  since 


86  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.       [aCT    III. 


[To  herself.]  Now  I  understand  why  they 
said  that  Nils  Lykke  was  unlike  all  others. 

Nils  Lykke. 

There  is  one  thing  in  the  Avorld  that  might 
drive  a  man  to  madness,  but  to  think  of  it;  and 
that  is  the  thought  of  what  might  liave  been, 
had  things  but  fallen  out  in  this  way  or  that. 
Had  I  met  you  on  my  path  while  the  tree  of  my 
life  was  yet  green  and  budding,  at  this  hour, 
mayliap,  you  had  been 

But  forgive  me,  noble  lady !  Our  speech  of 
these  past  few  moments  has  made  me  forget 
how  we  stand  one  to  another.  'Twas  as  though 
a  secret  voiee  had  told  me  from  the  first  that 
to  you  I  could  speak  openly,  without  flattery  or 
dissimulation. 

Elina. 

That  can  you. 

Nils  I.ykke. 
'Tis  well ; — and  it  may  be  that  this  openness 
has  already  in  part  reconciled  us.  Ay — my 
hope  is  yet  bolder.  The  time  may  yet  come 
when  you  will  think  of  the  stranger  knight 
without  hate  or  bitterness  in  your  soul.  Nay, — 
mistake  me  not!  I  mean  not  now — but  some 
time,  in  the  days  to  come.  And  that  this  may 
be  the  less  hard  for  you — and  as  I  have  begun 
once  for  all  to  speak  to  you  plainly  and  openly 
— let  me  tell  you 


Sir  Knight- 


:II.  ]         LADY      INGEU      OF      OSTRAT. 


Nils  Lykke. 

[Smiling.]  Ah,  I  see  the  thouglit  of  my  let- 
ter still  affrights  you.  Fear  nought  on  that 
score.  I  would  from  my  heart  it  were  unwrit- 
ten, for — I  know  'twill  concern  you  little 
enough,  so  I  maj'^  even  say  it  right  out — for  I 
love  you  not,  and  shall  never  come  to  love  you. 
Fear  nothing,  therefore,  as  I  said  before ;  I  shall 
in  nowise  seek  to 

But  what  ails  you .'' 

Elina. 

Me?  Nothing,  nothing. — Tell  me  but  one 
thing:  why  do  you  still  wear  those  flowers."* 
What  would  you  with  them.'' 

Nils  Lykke. 

These  .^  Are  they  not  a  gage  of  battle  you 
have  thrown  down  to  the  wicked  Nils  Lykke,  on 
behalf  of  all  womankind.'*  What  could  I  do  but 
take  it  up  ? 

You  asked  what  I  would  with  them.''  [Softly.] 
When  I  stand  again  amid  the  fair  ladies  of 
Denmark — when  the  music  of  the  strings  is 
hushed  and  there  is  silence  in  the  hall — then 
will  I  bring  forth  these  flowers  and  tell  a  tale 
of  a  young  maiden  sitting  alone  in  a  gloomy 
black-beamed  hall,  far  to  the  north  in  Nor- 
Avay [Breaks  off  and  hotvs  respectfuUt/. 

But  I  fear  I  detain  the  noble  daughter  of  the 
house  too  long.  We  shall  meet  no  more;  for 
before  daybreak  I  shall  be  gone.  So  now  I  bid 
you  farewell. 


88  LADV      INGER      OF      O  S  T  R  A  T.       [aCT    III. 


Elina. 
Fare  you  well,  Sir  Knight!     [A  short  silence. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Again  you  are  deep  in  thought,  Elina  Gylden- 
love !      Is   it   the   fate   of   your    fatherland   that 
weighs  upon  you  still? 

Elina. 
[Shafces  her  head,  absently  gazing  straight  in 
front  of  her.]      My  fatherland.'' — I  think  not  of 
my  fatherland. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Then   'tis   the   strife  and  misery  of  the  time 
that  disquiets  you. 

Elina. 

The  time  ?     I  had  forgotten  it You 

go  to  Denmark.^     Said  you  not  so? 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  go  to  Denmark. 

Elina. 
Can  I  look  towards  Denmark  from  this  hall? 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Points  to  the  window  on  the  left.]     Ay,  from 
this  window.     Denmark  lies  there,  to  the  south. 

Elina. 
And  is  it  far  from  here?     More  than  a  hun- 
dred leagues? 


act  iii.]      lady    inger    of    ostrat.        89 

Nils  Lykke. 

Much  more.  The  sea  lies  between  you  and 
Denmark. 

Elina. 

[To  herself.]  The  sea?  Thought  has  sea- 
gulls' wings.     The  sea  cannot  stay  it. 

[Goes  out  to  the  left. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Looks  after  her  awhile;  then  says:]  If  I 
could  but  spare  two  days  now — or  even  one — I 
would  have  her  in  my  power,  even  as  the  others. 

And   yet  is   there   rare   stuff   in   this   maiden. 

She  is  proud.     Might  I  not  after  all ?     No; 

rather  humble  her 

[Paces  the  room. 
Verily,  I  believe  she  has  set  my  blood  afire. 
Who  would  have  thought  it  possible  after  all 
these  years  ? — Enough  of  this !  I  must  get  out 
of  the  tangle  I  have  here  thrust  myself  into. 

[Sits  in  a  chair  on  the  right. 
What  is  the  meaning  of  it  ?  Both  Olaf  Skaktavl 
and  Inger  Gyldenlove  seem  blind  to  the  mis- 
trust 'twill  waken,  when  'tis  rumoured  that  I  am 
in  their  league. — Or  can  Lady  Inger  have  seen 
through  my  purpose  ?  Can  she  have  seen  that 
all  my  promises  were  but  designed  to  lure  Nils 
Sture  forth  from  his  hiding-place? 

[Springs  up. 
Damnation!  Is  it  I  that  have  been  fooled?  'Tis 
like  enough  that  Count  Sture  is  not  at  Ostrat  at 
all.     It  may  be  the  rumour  of  his  flight  was  but- 


90  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.      [aCT 


a  feint.     He  may  be  safe  and  sound  among  his 

friends  in  Sweden,  while  I 

[Walks  restlessly  up  and  down. 

And  to  think  I  was  so  sure  of  success !  If  I 
should  effect  nothing?  If  Lady  Inger  should 
penetrate  all  my  designs — and  publish  my  dis- 
comfiture— .  To  be  a  laughing-stock  both  here 
and  in  Denmark !  To  have  sought  to  lure  Lady 
Inger  into  a  trap — and  given  her  cause  the  help 
it  most  needed — strengthened  her  in  the  people's 

favour !     Ah,  I  could  well-nigh  sell  myself 

to  the  Evil  One,  would  he  but  help  me  to  lay 
hands  on  Count  Sture. 

[The  window  in  the  background  is  pushed 
open.     Nils  Stensson  appears  outside. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Clutches  at  his  sword.]     Who  is  there? 

Nils   Stensson. 

[Jumps  down  on  to  the  floor.]     Ah;  here  I  am 
at  last  then ! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]     What  means  this? 

Nils  Stensson. 
God's  peace,  master ! 

Nils  Lykke. 

Thanks,     good     Sir !       Methinks     you     have 
chosen  a  strange  way  of  entrance. 


ACT    III.]        LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.  91 


Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  what  the  devil  was  I  to  do?  The  gate 
was  shut.  Folk  must  sleep  in  this  house  like 
bears  at  Yuletide. 

Nils  Lykke. 

God  be  thanked !  Know  you  not  that  a  good 
conscience  is  the  best  pillow.'' 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  it  must  be  even  so;  for  with  all  my  rat- 
tling and  thundering,  I 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  won  not  in.'' 


Nils  Stensson. 

You  have  hit  it.  So  I  said  to  myself:  As  you 
are  bidden  to  be  in  Ostrat  to-night,  if  you  have 
to  go  through  fire  and  water,  you  may  surely 
make  free  to  creep  through  a  window. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]     Ah,  if  it  should  be ! 

[Moves  a  step  or  two  nearer. 
Was  it,  then,  of  the  last  necessity  that  you 
should  reach  Ostrat  to-night? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Was  it?  Ay,  faith  but  it  was.  I  love  not  to 
keep  folk  waiting,  I  can  tell  you. 


92  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.       [aCT    III. 


Nils  Lykke. 
Aha, — then  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  looks  for 
your  coming? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Lady    Inger   Gyldenlove?      Nay,   that    I    can 
scarce  say  for  certain;    [with  a  sly  smile^    but 
there  might  be  some  one  else 

Nils  Lykke. 
\Smiles  in  answer J\      Ah,  so  there  might  be 
some  one  else — ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Tell  me — are  you  of  the  house? 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  ?     Well,  in  so  far  that  I  am  Lady  Inger's 
guest  this  evening. 

Nils  Stensson. 
A    guest? — Is    not    to-night    the    third    night 
after  Martinmas? 

Nils  Lykke. 
The  third  night  after — ?  Ay,  right  enough. 
— Would  you  seek  the  lady  of  the  house  at  once  ? 
I  think  she  is  not  yet  gone  to  rest.  But  niiglit 
not  you  sit  down  and  rest  awhile,  dear  young 
Sir?  See,  here  is  yet  a  flagon  of  wine  remain- 
ing, and  doubtless  you  will  find  some  food. 
Come,  fall  to;  you  will  do  wisely  to  refresh  your 
strength. 


ACT    III.]        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  93 


Nils  Stensson. 
You  are  right,  Sir;  'twere  not  amiss. 

[Sits  down  by  the  table  and  eats  and  drinks. 
Both  roast  meat  and  sweet  cakes !  Why,  you 
live  like  lords  here !  When  one  has  slept,  as  I 
have,  on  the  naked  ground,  and  lived  on  bread 
and  water  for  four  or  five  days 

Nils   Lykke. 
[Looks   at   him   with   a   smile.]      Ay,   such   a 
life  must  be  hard  for  one  that  is  wont  to  sit  at 
the  high-table  in  noble  halls 

Nils  Stensson. 
Noble  halls ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  now  can  you  take  your  ease  at  Ostrat,  as 
long  as  it  likes  you. 

Nils   Stensson. 
[Pleased.]      Ay?     Can  I  truly.?     Then  I  am 
not  to  begone  again  so  soon .'' 

Nils  Lykke. 
Nay,  that  I  know  not.     Sure  you  yourself  can 
best  say  that. 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Softh/.]      Oh,  the  devil!      [Stretches  himself 
in   the  chair.]      Well,  you  see — 'tis  not  yet  cer- 
tain.    I,  for  my  part,  were  nothing  loath  to  stay 
quiet  here  awhile;  but ■ 


y*  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.      [aCT    III. 


Nils  Lykke. 


But  you  are  not  in  all  points  your  own 

master?      There  be  other   duties   and  other  af- 
fairs  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  that  is  just  the  rub.  Were  I  to  choose, 
I  would  rest  me  at  Ostrat  at  least  the  winter 
through ;  I  have  for  the  most  part  led  a  soldier's 
life,  and 

^Interrupts  himself  suddenly,  fills  a  goblet, 
and  drinks. 

Your  health,  Sir ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
A  soldier's  life?     H'm! 


Nils  Stensson. 

Nay,  what  I  would  have  said  is  this:  I  have 
long  been  eager  to  see  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove, 
whose  fame  has  spread  so  wide.  She  must  be  a 
queenly  woman, — is't  not  so? — The  one  thing  I 
like  not  in  her,  is  that  she  is  so  cursedly  slow 
to  take  open  action. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Open  action  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  ay,  you  understand  me;  I  mean  she  is  so 
loath  to  take  a  hand  in  driving  the  foreign  mas- 
ters out  of  the  land. 


act  iii.]      lady    ingeu    of    (istrat.         95 

Nils  Lykke. 

Ay,  there  you  are  riglit.  But  if  now  3-ou  do 
what  you  can,  you  will  doubtless  move  her. 

Nils  Stensson. 

I.''  God  knows  'twould  but  little  serve  if 
I 

Nils  Lykke. 

Yet  'tis  strange  you  should  seek  her  here  if 
you  have  so  little  hope. 

Nils  Stensson. 

What  mean  you? — Tell  me,  know  you  Lady 
Inger .'' 

Nils  Lykke. 

Surely;  since  I  am  her  guest 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  but  it  in  nowise  follows  that  j^ou  know 
her.  I  too  am  her  guest,  yet  have  I  never  seen 
so  much  as  her  shadow. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Yet  did  you  speak  of  her ■ 


Nils   Stensson. 

as   all   folk   speak.      Why   should   I   not? 

And   besides,   I   have   often   enough  heard    from 
Peter  Kanzler 

[Stops    in    confusion,    and   falls    to    eating 
busily. 


9Q  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT,       [aCT    III. 


Nils  Lykke. 
You  would  have  said ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Eating.]      I?     Nay,  'tis  all  one. 

[Nils  Lykke  laughs. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Why  laugh  you,  Sir.'' 

Nils  Lykke. 
At  nothing,  Sir ! 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Drinks.]      A  pretty  vintage  ye  have  in  this 
house. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Appraaches    him    confidentially.]       Listen — 
were  it  not  time  now  to  throw  off  the  mask? 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Smiling.]      The  mask.''     Why,  do  as  seems 
best  to  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Then  off  with  all  disguise.     You  are  known. 
Count  Sture ! 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Bursts    out    laughing.]       Count    Sture?      Do 
you  too  take  me  for  Count  Sture? 

[Rises  from  the  table. 
You  mistake.  Sir !     I  am  not  Count  Sture. 


act  iii.]      lady    inger    of    ostrat.        9t 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  are  not?     Then  who  are  you? 

Nils  Stensson. 
My  name  is  Nils  Stensson. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Looks   at   him   with  a  smile.]      H'm!      Nils 
Stensson?      But   you   are   not   Sten   Sture's    son 
Nils  ?     The  name  chimes  at  least. 

Nils  Stensson. 
True  enough;  but  God  knows  what  right  I 
have  to  bear  it.  My  father  I  never  knew;  my 
mother  was  a  poor  peasant-woman^  that  was 
robbed  and  murdered  in  one  of  the  old  feuds. 
Peter  Kanzler  chanced  to  be  on  the  spot;  he 
took  me  into  his  care,  brought  me  up,  and  taught 
me  the  trade  of  arms.  As  you  know,  King  Gus- 
tav  has  been  hunting  him  this  many  a  year;  and 
I  have  followed  him  faithfully,  wherever  he 
went. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Peter  Kanzler  has  taught  you  more  than  the 

trade  of  arms,  meseems. Well,  well;  then 

you  are  not  Nils  Sture.  But  at  least  you  come 
from  Sweden.  Peter  Kanzler  has  sent  you 
hither  to  find  a  stranger,  who 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Nods    cunningly.]       who    is    found    al- 
ready. 


9?  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.      [aCT    III. 


Nils   Lykke. 
[Somewhat  uncertain.]     And  whom  you  do  not 
know  ? 

Nils   Stensson. 
As  little  as  you  know  me ;  for  I  swear  to  you 
by  God  himself :  I  am  not  Count  Sture ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
In  sober  earnest^  Sir? 

Nils  Stensson. 
As  truly  as  I  live !     \Mierefore  should  I  deny 
it,  if  I  were.'' 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  where,  then,  is  Count  Sture.'' 

Nils  Stensson. 
[In  a  lo7v  voice.]     Ay,  that  is  just  the  secret. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Whispers.]      Which  is  known  to  you?      Is't 
not  so? 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Nods.]     And  which  I  am  to  tell  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 
To  tell  me?     Well  then, — where  is  he? 

[Nils  Stensson  points  upwards. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Up  there?     Lady  Inger  holds  him  hidden  in 
the  loft-room? 


ACT    III.]        LAUY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  99 


Nils  Stensson. 
Nay,  nay;  you  mistake  me. 

[Looks  round  cautiously. 
Nils  Sture  is  in  Heaven ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
Dead?     And  where? 

Nils  Stensson. 
In  his  mother's  castle, — three  weeks  since. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ah,  you  are  deceiving  me !     'Tis  but  five  or  six 
days  since  he  crossed  the  frontier  into  Norway. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Oh,  that  was  I. 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  just  before  that  the  Count  had  appeared 
in  the  Dales.     The  people,  who  were  restless  al 
i-eady,  broke  out  openly  and  would  have  chosen 
him  for  king. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ha-ha-ha ;  that  was  me  too ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
You? 

Nils  Stensson. 
I  will  tell  you  how  it  came  about.     One  dny 
Peter  Kanzlcr  called  me  to  him  and  gave  me  to 


100  LADY      INGER      OF      O  S  T  R  A  T.       [aCT 


know  tliat  great  tilings  were  preparing.  He 
bade  me  set  out  for  Norway  and  fare  to  Ostrat, 
where  I  must  be  on  a  certain  fixed  day 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Nods.]      The  third  night  after  Martinmas. 

Nils   Stensson. 
There  I  was  to  meet  a  stranger 

Nils  Lykke, 
Ay,  right;  I  am  he. 

Nils  Stensson. 
From  him  I  should  learn  what  more  I  had 
to  do.  Moreover,  I  was  to  let  him  know  that  the 
Count  was  dead  of  a  sudden,  but  that  as  yet  'twas 
known  to  no  one  save  to  his  mother  the  Count- 
ess, together  with  Peter  Kanzler  and  a  few  old 
servants  of  the  Stures. 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  understand.      The   Count  was  the  peasants' 
rallying-point.      Were   the   tidings   of  his   death 
to  spread,  they  would  fall  asunder, — and  'twould 
all  come  to  nought. 

Nils   Stensson. 
Ay,  maybe  so;  I  know  little  of  such  matters. 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  how  came   you  to   give   yourself   out   for 
the  Count? 


act  iii.]      lady    inger    of    ostrat.       101 

Nils  Stensson. 

How  came   I   to ?      Nay,  what  know   I? 

Many's  the  mad  prank  I  have  hit  on  in  my  day. 
And  yet  'twas  not  I  hit  on  it  neither ;  for  where- 
ever  I  appeared  in  the  Dales,  the  people  crowded 
round  me  and  hailed  me  as  Count  Sture.  Deny 
it  as  I  pleased,  'twas  wasted  breath.  The  Count 
had  been  there  two  years  before,  they  said — and 
the  veriest  child  knew  me  again.  Well,  so  be  it, 
thought  I ;  never  again  will  you  be  a  Count  in 
this  life;  why  not  try  what  'tis  like  for  once.'' 


Nils  Lykke. 
Well, — and  what  did  you  more.'' 

Nils  Stensson, 

I .''  I  ate  and  drank  and  took  my  ease.  The 
only  pity  was  that  I  had  to  take  the  road  again 
so  soon.  But  when  I  set  forth  across  the  fron- 
tier— ha-ha-ha — I  promised  them  I  would  soon 
be  back  with  three  or  four  thousand  men — I 
know  not  how  many  I  said — and  then  we  would 
lay  on  in  earnest. 

Nils  Lykke. 

And  you  did  not  bethink  you  that  you  were 
acting  rashly.'' 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  afterwards;  but  then,  to  be  sure,  'twas 
too  late. 


102  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCT    IV. 


Nils  Lykke. 
I  grieve  for  you,  my  young  friend ;  but  you 
will  soon  come  to  feel  the  effects  of  your  folly. 
Let  me  tell  you  tliat  you  are  pursued.     A  troop 
of  Swedish  men-at-arms  is  out  after  you. 

Nils  Stensson. 
After   me  ?      Ha-ha-ha  !      Nay,   that   is   rare ! 
And  when  tliey  come  and  think  they  have  Count 
Sture  in  their  clutches — ha-ha-ha  ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Gravely.]     Then  'tis  all  over  with  you. 

Nils  Stensson. 
All  over ?     But  I  am  not  Count  Sture. 

Nils  Lykke. 
You   have   called   the   people   to    arms.      You 
have  given  seditious  promises,  and  raised  troubles 
in  the  land. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ay,  but  'twas  only  in  jest! 

Nils  Lykke. 
King  Gustav  will  scarce  take  that  view  of  the 
affair. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Truly,   there   is    something   in   what  you   say. 

To  think  I  could  be  so  featherwitted Well, 

well,   Lm  not  a  dead  man  yet!      You  will  pro- 


III.]        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  103 


tect    me;     and    besides— the    men-at-arms     can 
scarce  be  at  my  heels  yet. 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  what  else  have  you  to  tell  me? 

Nils  Stensson. 
I."^     Nothing.     When  once  I  have  given  you 
the  packet 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Off  his  guard.]      The  packet? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ay,  sure  you  know 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ah,  right,  right;  the  papers  from  Peter  Kanz- 

ler 

Nils  Stensson. 
See,  here  they  all  are. 

[Takes  out  a  packet  from  inside  his  doub- 
let, and  hands  it  to  Nils  Lykke. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]  Letters  and  papers  for  Olaf  Skak- 
tavl.  [To  Nils  Stensson. 

The  packet  is  open,  I  see.  'Tis  like  you 
know  what  it  contains  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
No,  good  sir;  I  love  not  to  read  writing;  and 
for  reason  good. 


104  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCT 


Nils  Lykke. 

I  understand;  you  have  given  most  care  to  the 
trade  of  arms. 

[Sits  down  by  the  table  on  the  right,  and 
runs  through  the  papers. 
Aha !      Here   is    light   enough   and   to    spare   on 
what  is  brewing. 

This  small  letter  tied  with  a  silken  tliread — 
[Examines  the  address.]  This  too  for  Olaf 
Skaktavl.  [Opens  the  letter,  and  glances 
through  its  contents.]  From  Peter  Kanzler.  I 
thought  as  much.  [Reads  under  his  breath.] 
"  I  am  hard  bested,  for — " ;  ay,  sure  enough ; 
here  it  stands, — "  Young  Count  Sture  has  been 
gathered  to  his  fatliers,  even  at  the  time  fixed 
for  the  revolt  to  break  forth  " — "  — but  all  may 
yet  be  made  good — "  What  now?  [Reads  on 
in  astonishment.]  "  You  must  know,  then,  Olaf 
Skaktavl,  that  the  young  man  who  brings  you 
tliis  letter  is  a  son  of — "  Heaven  and  earth — 
can  it  be  so? — Ay,  by  the  cross  of  Christ,  even 
so  'tis  written!  [Glances  at  Nils  Stensson.] 
Can  he  be — ?  Ah,  if  it  were  so!  [Reads  on.] 
"  I  have  nurtured  him  since  he  was  a  year  old; 
but  up  to  this  day  I  have  ever  refused  to  give 
him  back,  trusting  to  have  in  him  a  sure  hostage 
for  Inger  Gyldenlove's  faithfulness  to  us  and  to 
our  friends.  Yet  in  that  respect  he  has  but  lit- 
tle availed  us.  You  may  marvel  that  I  told  you 
not  this  secret  when  you  were  witli  me  here  of 
late;  therefore  will  I  confess  freely  tliat  I  feared 
you  might  seize  upon  him,  even  as  I  had  done, 
and  to  the  same  intent.  But  now,  when  you  have 
seen   Lady   Inger,   and   have   doubtless   assured 


HI.]        LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.         105 


yourself  how  loath  she  is  to  have  a  hand  in  our 
undertakings  you  will  see  that  'tis  wisest  to  give 
her  back  her  own  as  soon  as  may  be.  Well  might 
it  come  to  pass  that  in  her  joy  and  security  and 

thankfulness — "  "  — that  is  now  our  last 

hope." 

[Sits  for  a  while  as  though  struck  dumb 
with  surprise;  then  exclaims  in  a  low 
voice : 

Aha, — what  a  letter !     Gold  would  not  buy  it ! 

Nils  Stensson. 

'Tis  plain  I  have  brought  you  weighty  tid- 
ings. Ay,  ay, — Peter  Kanzler  has  many  irons 
in  the  fire,  folk  say. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  himself.]  What  to  do  with  all  this?  A 
thousand  paths  are  open  to  me —  What  if  I 
were — ?  No,  'twere  to  risk  too  much.  But  if 
— ah,  if  I — .''     I  will  venture  it! 

[Tears  the  letter  across,  crumples  up  the 
pieces,  and  hides  them  inside  his  doub- 
let; puts  back  the  other  papers  into  the 
packet,  which  he  thrusts  inside  his  belt; 
rises  and  says: 

A  word,  my  young  friend ! 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Approaching  him.]  Well — your  looks  say 
that  the  game  goes  bravely. 


106  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.       [aCT    III, 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ay,  by  my  soul  it  does.     You  have  given  me 
a  hand  of  nought  but  court  cards, — queens  and 

knaves 

Nils  Stensson. 
But  what  of  me,  that  have  brought  all  these 
good  tidings?     Have  I  nought  more  to  do? 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  ?     Ay,  tliat  have  you.     You  belong  to  the 
game.     You  are  a  king — and  king  of  trumps  too. 

Nils  Stensson. 
I  a  king?     Oh,  now   I   understand;   you  are 
thinking  of  my  exaltation 

Nils  Lykke. 
Your  exaltation? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ay;  that  which  you  foretold  for  me,  if  King 

Gustav's  men  got  me  in  their  clutches 

[Makes  a  motion  to  indicate  hanging. 

Nils  Lykke. 
True   enough; — but   let   that   trouble   you   no 
more.     It  now  lies  with  yourself  alone  whether 
within  a  month  you  shall  have  the  hempen  noose 
or  a  chain  of  gold  about  your  neck. 

Nils  Stensson. 
A  chain  of  gold?     And  it  lies  with  me? 

[Nils  Lykke  nods. 


ACT    II  I.  I        LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.         107 


Nils  Stensson. 


Why  then,  the  devil  take  doubting !     Do  you 
but  tell  me  what  I  am  to  do. 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  will.     But  first  you  must  swear  me  a  solemn 
oath  that  no  living  creature  in  the  wide  world 
shall  know  what  I  confide  to  you. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Is  that  all?     You  shall  have  ten  oaths,  if  you 
will. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Not  so  lightly,  young  Sir!      'Tis  no  jesting 
matter. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Well,  well;  I  am  grave  enough. 

Nils  Lykke. 
In  the   Dales   you  called   yourself  a   Count's 
son ; — is't  not  so  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Nay — begin  you  now  on  that  again .^     Have 
I  not  made  free  confession 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  mistake  me.    What  you  said  in  the  Dales 
was  the  truth. 

Nils  Stensson. 
The  truth?     What  mean  you  by  that?     Tell 
me  but ! 


108  LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    III. 


Nils  Lykke. 
First  your   oath !      The  holiest,  the  most  in- 
violable you  can  swear. 

Nils  Stensson. 
That   you   shall   have.      Yonder   on   the   wall 
hangs  the  picture  of  the  Holy  Virgin 

Nils  Lykke. 
The   Holy  Virgin  has   grown  infirm   of  late. 
Know   you   not   what   the   monk   of   Wittenberg 
maintains  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Fie !  how  can  you  heed  the  monk  of  Witten- 
berg.''    Peter  Kanzler  says  he  is  a  heretic. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Well,   let   us   not   dispute  the   matter.      Here 
can  I  show  you  a  saint  will  serve  full  well  to 
make  oath  by. 

[Points  to  a  picture  hanging  on  one  of  the 
panels. 

Come  hither, — swear  that  you  will  be  silent  till 
I  myself  release  your  tongue — silent,  as  you 
hope  for  Heaven's  salvation  for  yourself  and  for 
the  man  whose  picture  hangs  there. 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Approaching  the  picture.]      I   swear   it — so 
help  me  God's  holy  word ! 

[Falls  back  a  ^tep  in  amazement. 
But — Christ  save  me ! 


ACT    II  1. 1        LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.         109 


Nils  Lykke. 
What  now? 

Nils  Stensson. 
The  picture — !     Sure  'tis  I  myself! 

Nils  Lykke. 

'Tis  old  Sten  Sture,  even  as  he  lived  and 
moved  in  his  youthful  years. 

Nils  Stensson. 

Sten  Sture  ! — And  the  likeness —  ?  And — 
said  you  not  I  spoke  the  truth,  when  I  called 
myself  a  Count's  son.^     Was't  not  so? 

Nils  Lykke. 
So  it  was. 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ah,  I  have  it,  I  have  it!     I  am 


Nils  Lykke. 
You  are  Sten  Sture's  son,  good  Sir! 

Nils  Stensson. 

[With  the  quiet  of  amazement.]  I  Sten 
Sture's  son ! 

Nils  Lykke. 

On  the  mother's  side  too  your  blood  is  noble. 
Peter  Kanzler  spoke  not  the  truth,  if  he  said 
that  a  poor  peasant  woman  was  your  mother. 


110  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCT    III. 


Nils  Stknsson. 
Oh  strange !   oh   marvellous ! — But  can   I   be- 
lieve  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  may  believe  all  that  I  tell  you.     But  re- 
member, all  this   will  be   merely   your   ruin,   if 
you  should  forget  what  you  swore  to  me  by  your 
father's  salvation. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Forget   it?      Nay,  that  you   may  be   sure   I 
never  shall. — But   you,  to  whom   I   have   given 
my  word, — tell  me — who  are  you? 

Nils  Lykke. 
My  name  is  Nils  Lykke. 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Surprised.]      Nils   Lykke?      Surely  not  the 
Danish  Councillor? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Even  so. 

Nils  Stensson. 
And  it  was  you — ?     'Tis  strange.     How  come 

you ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

to     be     receiving    missives     from     Peter 

Kanzler?     You  marvel  at  that? 

Nils  Stensson. 
I  cannot  deny  it.     He  has  ever  named  you  as 
our  bitterest  foe 


,]         LADY      INGER      OF      OSTKAT.  HI 


Nils  Lykke. 
And  therefore  j'ou  mistrust  me? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Nay,   not   wholly   that;   but — well,   the   devil 
take  musing ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
Well  said.     Go  but  your  own  way,  and  you 
are  as  sure  of  the  halter  as  you  are  of  a  Count's 
title  and  a  chain  of  gold  if  you  trust  to  me. 

Nils  Stensson. 
That   will    I.      My   hand   upon   it,   dear    Sir ! 
Do  you  but  help  me  with  good  counsel  as  long  as 
there  is  need;  when  counsel  gives  place  to  blows, 
I  shall  look  to  myself. 

Nils  Lykke. 
'Tis   well.      Come   with   me  now   into   yonder 
chamber,  and  I  will  tell  you  how  all  these  mat- 
ters stand,  and  what  you  have  still  to  do. 

[Goes  out  to  the  right. 

Nils  Stensson. 
[With    a    glance    at    the    picture.]       I    Sten 

Sture's  son  !     Oh,  marvellous  as  a  dream ! 

[Goes  out  after  Nils  Lykke. 


ACT    FOURTH 

The  Banquet  Hall,  as  before,  but  without  the 
supper-table. 

BiORN,  the  majordomo,  enters  carrying  a  lighted 
branch-candlestick,  and  lighting  in  Lady 
Inger  and  Olaf  Skaktavl  by  the  second 
door  on  the  left.  Lady  Inger  has  a  bundle 
of  papers  in  her  hand. 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  BioRN.]  And  you  are  sure  my  daughter 
had  speech  with  the  knight,  here  in  the  hall? 

BlORN. 

[Putting  down  the  branch-cavdlestick  on  the 
table  on  the  left.]  Sure  as  may  be.  I  met  her 
even  as  she  stepped  into  the  passage. 

Lady  Inger. 

And  she  seemed  greatly  moved?  Said  you 
not  so? 

BlORN. 

She  looked  all  pale  and  disturbed.      I  asked 

if  she  were   sick ;   she   answered   not,  but   said : 

"  Go  to  my  mother  and  tell  her  the  knight  sots 

forth  from  here  ere  daybreak;  if  she  have  letters 

112 


LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.  113 


or  messages  for  him,  beg  her  not  to  delay  him 
needlessly."  And  then  she  added  somewhat 
that  I  heard  not  rightly. 

Lady  Inger. 
Did  you  not  hear  it  at  all? 

Biorn. 
It  sounded  to  me  as  though  she  said : — "  Al- 
most I   fear  he  has  already  tarried  too  long  at 
Ostrat." 

Lady  Inger. 
And  the  knight?     Where  is  he? 

Biorn. 
In  his  chamber  belike,  in  the  gate-wing. 

Lady  Inger. 
It  is  well.     What  I   have  to  send  by  him  is 
ready.     Go  to  him  and  say  I  await  him  here  in 
the  hall.  [Biorn  goes  out  to  the  right. 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
Know  you,  Lady  Inger, — 'tis  true  that  in  such 
things  I  am  blind  as  a  mole;  yet  seems  it  to  me 
as   though h'm  ! 

Lady  Inger. 
Well? 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 

as    though    Nils    Lykke    bore    a   mind   to 

your  daufrhter. 


114  LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT.      [aCTIV. 


Lady  Inger. 


Then  'twould  seem  you  are  not  so  blind  after 
all;  for  I  am  the  more  deceived  if  you  be  not 
right.  Marked  you  not  at  the  supper-board  how 
eagerly  he  listened  to  the  least  word  I  let  fall 
concerning  Elina? 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
He  forgot  both  food  and  drink. 

Lady  Inger. 
And  our  secret  affairs  as  well. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Ay,  and  what  is  more — the  papers  from  Peter 
Kanzler. 

Lady  Inger. 

And  from  all  this  you  conclude ? 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 

From  all  this  I  chiefly  conclude  that,  as  you 
know  Nils  Lykke  and  the  name  he  bears,  espe- 
cially in  all  that  touches  women 

Lady  Inger. 
-I  should  be  right  glad  to  know  him  out- 


side my  gates  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Ay;  and  that  as  soon  as  may  be. 


act  iv.]     lady    inger    of    ostrat.         115 

Lady  Inger. 

[Smiling.]      Nay — the  case  is  just  the  con- 
trary, Olaf  Skaktavl! 


Olaf  Skaktavl. 
How  mean  you? 

Lady  Inger. 

If  things  be  as  we  both  think,  Nils  Lykke 
must  in  nowise  depart  from  Ostrat  yet  awhile. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Looks  at  her  with  disapproval.]  Are  you 
again  embarked  on  crooked  courses,  Lady 
Inger?  What  guile  are  you  now  devising? 
Something  that  may  increase  your  own  power 
at  the  cost  of  our 

Lady  Inger. 

Oh  this  blindness,  that  makes  you  all  do  me 
such  wrong !  I  see  well  you  think  I  purpose  to 
make  Nils  Lykke  my  daughter's  husband.  Were 
such  a  thought  in  my  mind,  why  had  I  refused 
to  take  part  in  what  is  afoot  in  Sweden,  when 
Nils  Lykke  and  all  the  Danish  crew  seem  will- 
ing to  support  it? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Then  if  it  be  not  your  Avish  to  win  him  and 
bind  him  to  you — what  would  you  with  him? 


Tl6  LADY     INGEn     OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    IV. 


Lady  Inger. 

I  will  tell  you  in  few  words.  In  a  letter  to 
me,  Nils  I-j-kke  has  spoken  of  the  high  fortune 
it  were  to  be  allied  to  our  house;  and  I  do  not 
say  but,  for  a  moment,  I  let  myself  think  of  the 
matter. 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
Ay,  see  you ! 

Lady  Inger. 

To  wed  Nils  Lj^kke  to  one  of  my  house  were 
doubtless  a  great  step  toward  stanching  many 
discords  in  our  land. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Meseeras  your  daughter  Merete's  marriage 
with  Vinzents  Lunge  might  have  taught  you 
what  com.es  of  such  a  step.  Scarce  had  my  lord 
gained  firm  footing  among  us,  when  he  began 
to  make  free  with  both  our  goods  and  our 
rights 

Lady  Inger. 

I  know  it  even  too  well,  Olaf  Skaktavl !  But 
times  there  be  when  my  thoughts  are  manifold 
and  strange.  I  cannot  impart  them  fully  either 
to  you  or  to  any  one  else.  Often  I  know  not 
the  right  course  to  choose.  And  yet — a  second 
time  to  make  a  Danish  lord  my  son-in-law, — 
nought  but  the  uttermost  need  could  drive  me 
to  that  resource;  and  heaven  be  praised — things 
have  not  vet  come  to  that! 


ACT    IV.]      LADY     INGER     OF      08TRAT.  117 


Olaf   Skaktavl. 
I  am  no  wiser  than  before^  Lady  Inger; — why 
would  you  keep  Nils  Lykke  at  Ostrat? 

Lady  Inger. 
[In  a  low  voice.]  Because  I  owe  him  an  un- 
dying hate.  Nils  Lykke  has  done  me  deadlier 
wrong  tlian  any  other  man.  I  cannot  tell  you 
wherein  it  lies;  but  never  shall  I  rest  till  I  am 
avenged  on  him.  See  you  not  now.''  Say  that 
Nils  Lykke  were  to  love  my  daughter — as  me- 
seems  were  like  enough.  I  will  persuade  him 
to  tarry  here;  he  shall  learn  to  know  Elina  well. 
She  is  both  fair  and  wise. — Ah,  if  he  should  one 
day  come  before  me,  with  hot  love  in  his  heart, 
to  beg  for  her  hand !  Then — to  chase  him  away 
like  a  dog;  to  drive  him  off  with  jibes  and 
scorn ;  to  make  it  known  over  all  the  land  that 
Nils  Lykke  had  come  a-wooing  to  Ostrat  in 
vain — !  I  tell  you  I  would  give  ten  years  of 
my  life  but  to  see  that  day ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
In    faith    and    truth,    Inger    Gyldenlove — ^is 
this  your  purpose  towards  him.'' 

Lady  Inger. 

This  and  nought  else,  as  sure  as  God  lives ! 
Trust  me,  Olaf  Skaktavl,  I  mean  honestly  by 
my  countrymen ;  but  I  am  in  nowise  my  own 
mistress.  Things  tlicre  be  that  must  be  kept 
hidden,  or  'twere  my  deatli-blow.  But  let  me 
once  be  secure  on  that  side,  and  j'ou  shall  see 


118  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCTIV. 


if  I  have  forgotten  the  oath  I   swore  by  Knut 
Alfson's  bier. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[Shakes  her  by  the  hand.]  Thanks  for  those 
words !  I  am  loath  indeed  to  think  evil  of  you. 
- — Yet,  touching  your  design  towards  this  knight, 
methinks  'tis  a  venturesome  game  you  would 
play.  What  if  you  had  misreckoned?  What  if 
your  daughter — ?  'Tis  said  no  woman  can 
stand  against  this  subtle  devil. 

Lady  Inger. 

My  daughter?  Think  you  that  she — ?  Nay, 
have  no  fear  of  that;  I  know  Elina  better.  All 
she  has  heard  of  his  renown  has  but  made  her 
hate   him  the   more.      You   saw  with   your  own 

eyes 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 

Ay,  but — a  woman's  mind  is  shifting  ground 
to  build  on.  'Twere  best  you  looked  well  before 
you. 

Lady  Inger. 

That  will  I,  be  sure ;  I  will  watch  them  nar- 
rowly. But  even  were  lie  to  succeed  in  luring 
her  into  his  toils,  I  have  but  to  whisper  two 
words  in  her  ear,  and 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
What  then  > 

Lady  Inger. 
-She  will  shrink   from  him   as  though  he 


came  straight  from  tlie  foul  Tempter  himself. 


ACT    IV.]       LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  119 


Hist,  Olaf  Skaktavl !  Here  he  comes.  Now 
be  cautious. 

[Nils  Lykke  enters  by  the  foremost  door 
on  the  right. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Approaches  Lady  Inger  courteously.]      My 
noble  hostess  has  summoned  me. 

Lady  Inger. 
I  have  learned  through  my  daughter  tliat  you 
are  minded  to  leave  us  to-night. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Even   so,  to  my   sorrow; — since  my  business 
at  Ostrat  is  over. 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
Not  before  I  have  the  papers. 

Nils  Lykke. 
True,    ti^e.       I     had    well-nigh     forgot    the 
weightiest  part  of  my  errand.     'Twas  the  fault 
of  our  noble  hostess.      With  such  gracious  skill 
did  she  keep  her  guests  in  talk  at  table 

Lady  Inger. 

That  you  no  longer  remembered  what  had 
brought  you  hither.^  I  rejoice  to  hear  it;  for 
that  was  my  design.  ^Nlethought  that  if  my 
guest,  Nils  Lykke,  were  to  feel  at  li's  ease  in 
Ostrat,  he  must  forget 


120  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCTIV. 

Nils  Lykke. 
What,  lady? 

Lady  Inger. 

First  of  all  his  errand — and  then  all  that 

had  gone  before  it. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[To    Olaf    Skaktavl,    as    he    takes    out    the 
packet  and  hands  it  to  him.^      The  papers  from 
Peter    Kanzler.      You   will   find   in   them    a    full 
account  of  our  partizans  in  Sweden. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
It  is  well. 

[Sits  down  hy  the  table  on  the  left,  where 
he  opens  the  packet  and  examines  its 
contents. 

Nils  Lykke. 
And   now.   Lady   Inger  Gyldenlove, — I   know 
not  that  there  is  aught  else  for  me  to  do  here. 

Lady  Inger. 
Had  it  been  things  of  state  alone  that  brought 
us  together,  you  might  be  right.      But  I  should 
be  loath  to  think  so. 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  would  say ? 

Lady  Inger. 
I  would  say  that  'twas  not  alone  as  a  Danish 
Councillor  or  as  the  ally  of  Peter  Kanzler  that 


IV.]      LADY     INGER      OF      OSTrAt.  121 


Nils  Lykke  came  to  be  my  guest. — Do  I  err  in 
fancying  that  somewhat  you  may  have  heard 
down  in  Denmark  may  have  made  you  curious 
to  know  more  of  the  Lady  of  Ostrat. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  deny 


Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Turning  over   the   papers.]      Strange.      No 
letter. 

Nils  Lykke. 

-Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove's  fame  is  all  too 


widely  spread  that  I  sliould  not  long  have  been 
eager  to  see  her  face  to  face. 

Lady  Inger. 

So  I  thought.  But  what,  then,  is  an  hour's 
jesting  talk  at  the  supper-table.''  Let  us  try 
to  sweep  away  all  that  has  till  now  lain  between 
us ;  it  may  well  come  to  pass  that  the  Nils 
Lykke  I  know  may  wipe  out  the  grudge  I  bore 
the  one  I  knew  not.  Prolong  your  stay  here 
but  a  few  days,  Sir  Councillor !  I  dare  not  per- 
suade Olaf  Skaktavl  thereto,  since  his  secret 
charge  in  Sweden  calls  h.im  hence.  But  as  for 
you,  doubtless  your  sagacity  has  placed  all 
things  beforehand  in  such  train  that  your  pres- 
ence can  scarce  be  needed.  Trust  me,  your  time 
shall  not  pass  tediously  with  us ;  at  least  you 
will  find  both  me  and  my  daughter  heartily  dis- 
posed to  do  all  in  our  power  to  pleasure  you. 


122         la'dy    inger    of    ostrat.     [act  IV. 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  doubt  neither  your  goodwill  towards  me  nor 
your  daughter's;  of  that  I  have  had  ample  proof. 
And  I  trust  you  will  not  doubt  tliat  my  presence 
elsewhere  must  be  vitally  needful^  since,  despite 
of  all,  I  must  declare  my  longer  stay  at  Ostrat 
impossible. 

Lady  Inger. 
Is  it  even  so ! — Know  you,  Sir  Councillor, 
were  I  evilly  minded,  I  might  fancy  you  had 
come  to  Ostrat  to  try  a  fall  with  me,  and  that, 
having  lost,  you  cared  not  to  linger  on  the  battle- 
field among  the  witnesses  of  your  defeat. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Smiliyig.]      There   might   be    some    show   of 
reason  for  such  a  reading  of  the  case;  but  sure 
it  is  that  as  yet  /  hold  not  the  battle  lost. 

Lady  Inger. 
However  that  may  be,  it  might  at  any  rate 
be  retrieved,  if  you  would  tarry  some  days  with 
us.  You  see  yourself,  I  am  still  halting  and 
wavering  at  the  parting  of  the  ways, — persuad- 
ing my  redoubtable  assailant  not  to  quit  the  field. 
— Well,  to  speak  plainly,  the  thing  is  this:  your 
alliance  with  the  disaffected  in  Sweden  still 
seems  to  me  somewhat — how  shall  I  call  it? 
— somewhat  miraculous,  Sir  Councillor !  I  tell 
you  this  frankly,  dear  Sir !  The  thought  that 
has  moved  the  King's  Council  to  tliis  secret  step 
is  in  truth  most  politic;  but  'tis  strangely  at 
variance  with  the  deeds  of  cert.iin  of  your  coun- 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  123 


trymen  in  bygone  years.  Be  not  offended,  then, 
if  my  trust  in  your  fair  promises  needs  to  be 
somewhat  strengthened  ere  I  can  place  my  whole 
welfare  in  your  hands. 

Nils  Lykke. 
A  longer   stay  at   Ostrat   would   scarce   help 
towards  that  end ;  since  I  purpose  not  to  make 
any  further  effort  to  shake  your  resolve. 

Lady  Inger. 
Then  must  I  pity  you  from  my  heart.  Ay, 
Sir  Councillor — 'tis  true  I  stand  here  an  un- 
friended widow;  yet  may  you  trust  my  word 
when  I  foretell  that  this  visit  to  Ostrat  will 
strew  your  future  path  with  thorns. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[With  a  smile.]     Is  that  your  forecast.  Lady 
Inger  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
Truly  it  is !  What  can  one  say,  dear  Sir  ? 
'Tis  an  age  of  tattling  tongues.  Many  a  scurril 
knave  will  make  jeering  rhymes  at  your  expense. 
Ere  half  a  year  is  out,  you  will  be  all  men's 
fable;  people  will  stop  and  gaze  after  you  on 
the  high  roads;  'twill  be:  "Look,  look;  there 
rides  Sir  Nils  Lykke,  that  fared  north  to  Ostrat 
to  trap  Inger  Gyldenlove,  and  was  caught  in  his 
own  nets." — Softly,  softly,  Sir  Kniglit,  why  so 
impatient!  'Tis  not  that  /  think  so;  I  do  but 
forecast  the  thoughts  of  the  malicious  and  evil- 
minded  ;  and  of  them,  alas !  there  are  many. — 


124  LADY      INGER      OF      O  S  T  R  A  T.       [j 


Ay,  'tis  shame;  but  so  it  is — you  will  reap 
nought  but  mockery — mockery,  because  a  wom- 
an was  craftier  than  you.  "  Like  a  cunning 
fox,"  men  will  say,  "  he  crept  into  Ostrat;  like  a 
beaten  hound  he  slunk  away." — And  one  thing 
more:  think  j'^ou  not  that  Peter  Kanzler  and  his 
friends  will  forswear  your  alliance,  when  'tis 
known  that  I  venture  not  to  fight  under  a  stand- 
ard borne  by  you? 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  speak  wisely,  lady !  Wherefore  to  secure 
me  from  mockery — and  not  to  endanger  the  alli- 
ance with  all  our  dear  friends  in  Sweden — I 
must  needs 

Lady  Inger. 
[Hastily.]     — — prolong  your  stay  at  Ostrat. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[Who  has  been  listening.]     He  is  in  the  trap! 

Nils  Lykke. 

No,  my  noble  lady; — I  must  needs  bring  you 
to  terms  within  this  hour. 

Lady  Inger. 
But  what  if  you  should  fail? 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  shall  not  fail. 


ACT    IV.]      LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.  125 


Lady  Inger. 
You  lack  not  confidence^  it  seems. 

Nils  Lykke. 
What  shall  be  the  wager  that  you  make  not 
common  cause  with  myself  and  Peter  Kanzler.'' 

Lady  Inger. 
Ostrat   Castle  against   your   knee-buckles ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Slaps  his  breast  and  cries:]      Olaf  Skaktavl 
— here  stands  the  master  of  Ostrat ! 

Lady  Inger. 
Sir  Councillor ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[Rises  from  the  table.]     What  now? 

Nils  Lykke. 
[To  Lady  Inger.]      I  accept  not  the  wager; 
for   in   a   moment   you   will   gladly   give    Ostrat 
Castle,  and  more  to  boot,  to  be  freed  from  the 
snare  wherein  not  I  but  you  are  tangled. 

Lady  Inger. 
Your  jest,  Sir,  grows  a  vastly  merry  one. 

Nils  Lykke. 
'Twill  be  merrier  yet — at  least  for  me.      You 
boast    that     you    have     overreached     me.       You 


126  LADY     INGER     OF     OSTRAT.      [acT    IV. 

threaten  to  heap  on  me  all  men's  scorn  and  mock- 
ery. Ah,  beware  that  you  stir  not  up  my  venge- 
fulness ;  for  with  two  words  I  can  bring  you  to 
your  knees  at  my  feet. 

Lady  Inger. 

Ha-ha ! 

[Stops   suddenly,   as   if   struck    by   a   fore- 
boding. 
And  these  two  words.  Nils  Lykke? — these  two 
words .'' 

Nils  Lykke. 
The  secret  of  Sten  Sture's  son  and  yours. 


Lady  Inger. 

[With  a  shriek.]     Oh,  God  in  heaven ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Inger  Gyldenlove's  son!     What  say  you.'' 

Lady  Inger. 
[Half  kneeling  to  Nils  Lykke.]     Mercy!  oh, 
be  merciful ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Raises  her  up.]     Collect  yourself,  and  let  us 
talk  together  calmly. 

Lady  Inger. 
[In  a  low  voice,  as  though  bewildered.]      Did 
you  hear  it,   Olaf   Skaktavl  ?      Or  was   it  but  a 
dream  ?     Heard  you  what  he  said  ? 


act  iv.]     lady    inger    of    ostrat.         127 

Nils  Lykke. 
It  was  no  dream.  Lady  Inger ! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Clasping  her  hands.]  And  you  know  it! 
You, — you  ! — Where  is  he  then  ?  Where  have 
you  got  him?  What  would  you  do  with  him? 
[Screams.]  Do  not  kill  him,  Nils  Lykke! 
Give  him  back  to  me !     Do  not  kill  my  child ! 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
Ah,  I  begin  to  understand 


Lady  Inger. 

And  this  fear — this  torturing  dread  !  Through 
all  these  weary  years  it  has  been  ever  with  me 

and  then  all  fails  at  last,  and  I  must  bear 

this  agony ! — Oh   Lord  my  God,   is   it  right  of 
thee?     Was  it  for  this  thou  gavest  him  to  me? 
[Controls  herself  and  says  rvith  forced  com- 
posure : 
Nils  Lykke — tell  me  one  thing.     Where  have 
you  got  him  ?     Where  is  he  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
With  his  foster-father. 

Lady  Inger. 

Still  with  his  foster-father.  Oh,  that  mer- 
ciless man —  !  For  ever  to  deny  me — .  But  it 
must  not  go  on  thus  !     Help  me,  Olaf  Skaktavl ! 


128  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.      [ ACT    IV. 


Olaf  Skaktavl. 

I? 

Nils  Lykke. 
There  will  be  no  need^  if  only  you 

Lady  Inger. 

Hearken,  Sir  Councillor !  What  you  know 
you  shall  know  thoroughly.  And  you  too,  my 
old  and  faithful  friend! 

Listen  then.  To-night  you  bade  nie  call  to 
mind  that  fatal  day  when  Knut  Alfson  was  slain 
at  Oslo.  You  bade  me  remember  the  promise  I 
made  as  I  stood  by  his  corpse  amid  the  bravest 
men  in  Norway.  I  was  scarce  full-grown  then ; 
but  I  felt  God's  strength  in  me,  and  methought, 
as  many  have  thought  since,  that  the  Lord 
himself  had  set  his  mark  on  me  and  chosen 
me  to  fight  in  the  forefront  for  my  country's 
cause. 

Was  it  pride  of  heart?  Or  was  it  a  calling 
from  on  high?  That  I  have  never  clearly 
known.  But  woe  to  whoso  is  charged  with  a 
mighty  task. 

For  seven  years  I  fear  not  to  say  that  I  kept 
my  promise  faithfully.  I  stood  by  my  country- 
men in  all  their  sufferings  and  their  need. 
Playmates  of  mine,  all  over  the  land,  were  wives 
and  mothers  now.  I  alone  could  give  ear  to  no 
wooer — not  to  one.  That  you  know  best,  Olaf 
Skaktavl ! 

Then  I  saw  Sten  Sture  for  tlie  first  time. 
]""airer  man  had  never  met  mv  sicrht. 


ACT    IV.]      LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  129 


Nils  Lykke. 
Ah,  now  it  grows  clear  to  me !      Sten   Sture 
was  then  in   Norway  on  a   secret  errand.      We 
Danes  were  not  to  know  that  he  wished  your 
friends  well. 

Lady  Inger. 

In  the  guise  of  a  mean  serving-man  he  lived 
a  whole  winter  under  one  roof  with  me. 

That  winter  I  thouglit  less  and  less  of  the 
country's  weal. —  —  So  fair  a  man  had  I  never 
seen — and  I  had  lived  well-nigh  five-and-twenty 
years. 

Next  autumn  Sten  Sture  came  once  more ;  and 
when  he  departed  again  he  took  with  him,  in  all 
secrecy,  a  little  child.  'Twas  not  folk's  evil 
tongues  I  feared;  but  our  cause  would  have 
suffered  had  it  got  abroad  that  Sten  Sture  stood 
so  near  to  me. 

The  child  was  given  to  Peter  Kanzler  to  rear. 
I  waited  for  better  times,  that  were  soon  to  come. 
They  never  came.  Sten  Sture  took  a  wife  two 
years  later  in  Sweden,  and,  when  he  died,  he 
left  a  widow 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
And  with  her  a  lawful  heir  to  his  name 


and  rights. 

Lady  Inger. 
Time  after  time  I  wrote  to  Peter  Kanzler  be- 
seeching him  to  give  me  back  my  child.  But 
he  was  ever  deaf  to  my  prayers.  "  Cast  in  your 
lot  with  us  once  for  all,"  he  said,  "  and  I  send 
your   son   back   to    Norway;   not   before.''      B-<i. 


ISO  LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCT    IV. 


'twas  even  that  I  dared  not  do.  We  of  the  dis- 
affected party  were  then  ill  regarded  by  many 
timorous  folk  in  the  land.  Had  these  learnt  how 
things  stood — oh,  I  know  it ! — to  cripple  the 
mother  they  had  gladly  meted  to  the  child  the 
fate  that  would  have  been  King  Christiern's  had 
he  not  saved  himself  by  flight.^ 

But,  besides  that,  the  Danes,  too,  were  active. 
They  spared  neither  threats  nor  promises  to 
force  me  to  join  them. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

'Twas  but  reason.  The  eyes  of  all  men  were 
fixed  on  you  as  on  the  vane  that  should  show 
them  how  to  shape  their  course. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  came  Herlof  Hyttefad's  rising.  Do  you 
remember  that  time,  Olaf  Skaktavl?  Was  it 
not  as  though  a  new  spring  had  dawned  over 
the  whole  land !  Mighty  voices  summoned  me 
to  come  forth; — yet  I  dared  not.  I  stood  doubt- 
ing— far  from  the  strife — in  my  lonely  castle. 
At  times  it  seemed  as  though  the  Lord  God 
himself  were  calling  me;  but  then  would  come 
the    killing    dread    again    to    benumb    my    will. 

1  King  Christian  II.  of  Denmark  (the  perpetrator  of  the 
massacre  at  Stockholm  known  as  the  Blood-Bath)  fieti  to 
Holland  in  1523,  five  years  before  the  date  assigned  to  this 
play,  in  order  to  escape  death  or  imprisonment  at  the  hands 
of  his  rebellious  nobles,  who  summoned  his  uncle,  Frederirk 
I.,  to  the  throne.  Returning  to  Denmark  in  1 532,  Christian 
was  tlirown  into  prison,  where  he  B]>cnt  the  last  twenty -seven 
years  of  his  life. 


IV.]       LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  131 


"  Who  will  win?  " — that  was  the  question  that 
was  ever  ringing  in  my  ears. 

'Twas  but  a  short  spring  that  had  come  to 
Norway.  Herlof  Hyttefad,  and  many  more  with 
him,  were  broken  on  the  wheel  during  the 
months  that  followed.  None  could  call  me  to 
account;  yet  there  lacked  not  covert  threats 
from  Denmark.  What  if  they  knew  the  secret? 
At  last  methought  they  must  know;  I  knew 
not  how  else  to  understand  their  words. 

'Twas  even  in  that  time  of  agony  that  Gyl- 
denlove,  the  High  Steward,  came  hither  and 
sought  me  in  marriage.  Let  any  mother  an- 
guished for  her  child  think  herself  in  my  place ! 
— A  month  after,  I  was  the  High  Steward's  wife 
— and  homeless  in  the  hearts  of  my  countrymen. 

Then  came  the  quiet  years.  No  one  raised  his 
head  any  more.  Our  masters  might  grind  us 
down  even  as  heavily  as  they  listed.  There 
were  times  when  I  loathed  myself;  for  what 
had  I  to  do?  Nought  but  to  endure  terror  and 
scorn  and  bring  forth  daughters  into  the  world. 
My  daughters !  God  must  forgive  me  if  I  have 
had  no  mother's  heart  towards  them.  My  wifely 
duties  were  as  serfdom  to  me;  how  then  could 
I  love  my  daughters  ?  Oh,  how  different  with 
my  son !  H  e  was  the  child  of  my  very  soul. 
He  was  the  one  thing  that  brought  to  mind  the 
time  when  I  was  a  woman  and  nought  but  a 
woman. — And  him  they  had  taken  from  me !  He 
was  growing  up  among  strangers,  who  might, 
mayhap,  be  sowing  in  him  the  seed  of  corrup- 
tion !  Olaf  Skaktavl — had  I  wandered,  like  you, 
on  the  lonely  hills,  hunted  and  forsaken,  in  win- 


1.^2  LADY      INGER      OF      ciSTRAT.       [aCT    IV. 


tcr  and  storm — if  I  had  but  held  my  child  in 
my  arms, — trust  me,  I  had  not  sorrowed  and 
wept  so  sore  as  I  have  sorrowed  and  wept  for 
him  from  his  birth  even  to  this  hour ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
There  is  my  hand.      I  have  judged  you  too 
hardly,  Lady  Inger !     Command  me  even  as  be- 
fore; I  will  obey. — Ay,  by  all  the  saints,  I  know 
what  it  is  to  sorrow  for  a  child. 

Lady  Inger. 
Yours  was  slain  by  men  of  blood.     But  what 
is  death  to  the  restless  terror  of  all  these  long 
years .'' 

Nils  Lykke. 

Mark,  then — 'tis   in   your   power  to   end  this 

terror.     You  have  but  to   make  peace   between 

the  jarring  factions,  and  neither  will  think   of 

seizing  on  your  child  as  a  pledge  of  your  faith. 

Lady  Inger. 
[To    herself.]       This    is    the    vengeance    of 
Heaven.      [Looks  at  hijn.]      In  one  word,  what 
do  you  demand? 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  demand  first  that  you  shall  call  the  people 
of  the  northern  districts  to  arms,  in  support  of 
the  disaffected  in  Sweden. 

Lady  Inoer. 
And  next .'' 


ACTIV.  1       LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  ISS 


Nils  Lykke. 


that  you  do  your  best  to  advance  young 

Count  Sture's  ancestral  claim  to  the  throne  of 
Sweden. 

Lady  Inger. 

His?     You  demand  that  I 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
[Softh/.]      It   is   the   wish   of   many   Swedes, 
and  'twould  serve  our  turn  too. 

Nils  Lykke. 
You    hesitate,    lad}"?      You    tremble    for    your 
son's  safety.     What  better  can  you  wish  than  to 
see  his  half-brother  on  the  throne? 

Lady  Inger. 
[In  thought.]      True — true 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Looks    at    her    sharply.]       Unless    there    be 
other  plans  afoot 

Lady  Inger. 
What  mean  you? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Inger  Gyldenlove  might  have  a  mind  to  be — 
a  king's  mother. 

Lady  Inger. 
No,  no !     Give  me  back  my  child,  and  let  who 
will  have  the  crowns. 


134  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCTIV. 


But  know  you  so  surely  that  Count  Sture  is 
willing ? 

Nils  Lykkk. 
Of  that  he  will  himself  assure  you. 

Lady  Inger. 
Himself?     And  when? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Even  now. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
How  now? 

Lady  Inger. 
What  say  you? 

Nils  Lykke. 
In  one  word^  Count  Sture  is  in  Ostrat. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Here? 

Nils  Lykke. 
[To  Lady  Inger.]     You  have  doubtless  heard 
that  another  rode  through  the  gate  along  with 
me?     The  Count  was  my  attendant. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Softly.]      I    am   in   his   power.      I   have   no 
longer  any  choice. 

[Looks  at  him  and  says: 
'Tis  well,  Sir  Councillor — you  shall  have  full 
assurance  of  my  support. 


act  iv.]     lady    inger    of    ostrat.         135 

Nils  Lykke. 
In  writing? 

Lady  Inger. 
As  you  will. 

[Goes  to  the  table  on  the  left,  sits  down, 
and  takes  writing  materials  from  the 
drawer. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside,  standing  by  the  table  on  the  right.] 
At  last,  then,  I  win ! 

Lady  Inger. 

[After  a  moment's  thought,  turns  suddenly  in 
her  chair  to  Olaf  Skaktavl  and  whispers.] 
Olaf  Skaktavl — I  am  certain  of  it  now — Nils 
Lykke  is  a  traitor ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[Softly.]      What?     You  think ? 


Lady  Inger. 

He  has  treachery  in  his  heart. 

[Lays  the  paper  before   her  and  dips  the 
pen  in  the  ink. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

And  yet  you  would  give  him  a  written  promise 
that  may  be  your  ruin? 


136  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCTIV. 


Lady  Inger. 

Hush;  leave  me  to  act.     Nay,  wait  and  listen 
first [Talks  with  him  in  a  whisper. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Softly,  watching  them.]  Ah,  take  counsel 
together  as  much  as  ye  list !  All  danger  is  over 
now.  With  her  written  consent  in  my  pocket,  I 
can  denounce  her  whenever  I  please.  A  secret 
message  to  Jens  Biclke  this  very  night — .  I 
tell  him  but  the  truth — that  the  young  Count 
Sture  is  not  at  Ostrat.  And  then  to-morrow, 
when  the  road  is  oj^en — to  Trondhiem  with  my 
young  friend,  and  thence  by  ship  to  Copen- 
hagen with  him  as  my  prisoner.  Once  we  have 
him  safe  in  the  castle-tower,  we  can  dictate  to 
Lady  Inger  what  terms  we  will.  And  I — ? 
After  this,  methinks,  the  King  will  scarce  place 
the  French  mission  in  other  hands  than  mine. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Still  whispering  to  Olaf  Skaktavl.]     Well, 
you  understand  me? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Ay,  fully.     Let  us  make  the  venture,  even  as 

you  will.        [Goes  out  by  the  back,  to  the  right. 

[Nils  Stensson  comes  in  by  the  first  door 

on  the  right,  unseen  by  Lady  Inger,  who 

has  begun  to  write. 

Nils  Stensson. 
[In  a  low  voice.]     Sir  Knight, — Sir  Knight! 


act  iv.]     lady    inger    of    ostrat.         137 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Moves    towards    him.^       Rash    boy!      What 
would  you   here  ?      Said   I  not  you  should  wait 
within  until  I  called  you? 

Nils   Stensson. 

How  could  I  ?  Now  you  have  told  me  that 
Inger  Gyldenlove  is  my  mother,  I  thirst  more 
than  ever  to  see  her  face  to  face 

Oh,  it  is  she !  How  proud  and  high  her  mien  ! 
Even  thus  did  I  ever  picture  her.  Fear  not, 
dear  Sir,- — I  shall  do  nought  rashly.  Since  I 
have  learnt  this  secret,  I  feel,  as  it  were,  older 
and  wiser.  I  "will  no  longer  be  wild  and  heed- 
less ;  I  will  be  even  as  other  well-born  youths. — 
Tell  me, — knows  she  that  I  am  here.''  Surely 
you  have  prepared  her.'' 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ay,  sure  enough;  but 

Nils  Stensson. 
Well.? 

Nils  Lykke. 
She  will  not  own  you  for  her  son. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Will  not  own  me?  But  she  is  my  mother. — 
Oh,  if  it  be  that  she  doubts  that — [takes  out 
a  ring  which  he  wears  on  a  cord  round  his  neck] 
— show  her  this  ring.  I  have  worn  it  since  my 
earliest  childhood;  she  must  surely  know  its 
history. 


138  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aC 


Nils  Lykke. 

Hide  the  ring,  man !     Hide  it,  I  say ! 

You  mistake  me.  Lady  Inger  doubts  not  at  all 
that  you  are  her  child ;  but — ay,  look  about  you ; 
look  at  all  this  wealth;  look  at  these  mighty 
forefathers  and  kinsmen  whose  pictures  deck  the 
walls  both  high  and  low ;  look  lastly  at  herself, 
the  haughty  dame,  used  to  bear  sway  as  the  first 
noblewoman  in  the  kingdom.  Think  you  it  can 
be  to  her  mind  to  take  a  poor  ignorant  youth 
by  the  hand  before  all  men's  eyes  and  say:  Be- 
hold my  son ! 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ay,  doubtless  you  are  right.  I  am  poor  and 
ignorant.  I  have  nought  to  offer  her  in  return 
for  what  I  crave.  Oh,  never  have  I  felt  my 
poverty  weigh  on  me  till  this  hour !  But  tell  me 
■ — what  think  you  I  should  do  to  win  her  favour .'' 
Tell  me,  dear  Sir ;  sure  you  must  know ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  must  win  your  father's  kingdom.  But 
until  that  may  be,  look  well  that  you  wound  not 
her  ears  by  hinting  at  kinship  or  the  like.  She 
will  bear  her  as  though  she  believed  you  to  be 
the  real  Count  Sture,  imtil  you  have  made  your- 
self worthy  to  be  called  her  son. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Oh,  but  tell  me ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
Hush;  hush! 


act  iv.]     lady    inger    of    ostrat.         139 

Lady  Inger. 

[Rises  and  hands  him  a  paper. ^  Sir  Knight 
— here  is  my  promise. 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  thank  you. 

Lady  Inger. 

{Notices  Nils  Stensson.]      Ah, — this  young 

man  is .'' 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ay,  Lady  Inger,  he  is  Count  Sture. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Aside,  looks  at  him  stealthily.]  Feature  for 
feature ; — ay,  by  God, — it  is  Sten  Sture's  son  ! 

[Approaches     him     and     says     rvith     cold 
courtesy : 

I  bid  you  welcome  under  my  roof,  Count !  It 
rests  with  you  whether  or  not  we  shall  bless  this 
meeting  a  year  hence. 

Nils  Stensson. 

With  me.''  Oh,  do  but  tell  me  what  I  must 
do !   Trust  me   I  have  both  courage  and  will 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Listens  uneasily.]  What  is  this  noise  and 
uproar.  Lady  Inger?  There  are  people  press- 
ing hitherward.     What  does  this  mean  ? 


140  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCT    IV. 


Lady  Inger. 
[In  a  loud  voice.]      'Tis  the  spirits  awaking! 
[Olaf     Skaktavl,    Einar    Huk,    Biorn, 
Finn,  and  a  number  of   Peasants   and 
Retainers  come  in  from  the  back,  on  the 
right. 

The   Peasants  and  Retainers. 
Hail  to  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove ! 

Lady  Inger. 
[7*0  Olaf  Skaktavl.]      Have  you  told  them 
what  is  afoot.'' 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
I  have  told  them  all  they  need  to  know. 

Lady  Inger. 
[To  the  Crowd.]  Ay,  now,  my  faithful 
house-folk  and  peasants,  now  must  ye  arm  you 
as  best  you  can  and  will.  That  which  earlier 
to-night  I  forbade  you,  ye  have  now  my  fullest 
leave  to  do.  And  here  I  present  to  you  the 
young  Count  Sture,  the  coming  ruler  of  Sweden 
— and  Norway  too,  if  God  will  it  so. 

The  Whole  Crowd. 
Hail  to  him  !     Hail  to  Count  Sture ! 

[General  excitement.  The  Peasants  and 
Retainers  choose  out  weapons  and  put 
on  breastplates  and  helmets,  amid  great 
noise. 


ACTIV.l       LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  141 


Nils  Lykke. 

[Softly  and  uneasily.^  The  spirits  awaking, 
she  said?  I  but  feigned  to  conjure  up  the  devil 
of  revolt — 'twere  a  cursed  spite  if  he  got  the 
upper  hand  of  us. 

Lady  Inger. 

\To  Nils  Stensson.]  Here  I  give  you  the 
first  earnest  of  our  service — thirty  mounted  men, 
to  follow  you  as  a  bodyguard.  Trust  me — ere 
you  reach  the  frontier  many  hundreds  will  have 
ranged  themselves  under  my  banner  and  yours. 
Go,  then,  and  God  be  with  you ! 

Nils  Stensson. 

Thanks, — Inger  Gyldenlo\'^  !  Thanks — and 
be  sure  you  shall  never  have  cause  to  shame  you 
for — for  Count  Sture !  If  you  see  me  again,  I 
shall  have  won  my  father's  kingdom. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[  To  himself.  ]     Ay,  i  f  she  see  you  again  ! 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 

The  horses  wait,  good  fellows !  Are  ye 
ready ? 

The  Peasants. 

Ay,  ay,  ay ! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Uneasily,  io  Lady  Inger.]  What?  You 
mean  not  to-night,  even  now ? 


J42  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCT    IV. 


Lady  Inger. 
This  very  moment.  Sir  Knight! 

Nils  Lykke. 
Nay,  nay,  impossible ! 

Lady  Inger. 
I  have  said  it. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Softly,  to  Nils  Stensson.]     Obey  her  not! 

Nils  Stensson. 
How  can  I  do  aught  else.''     I  will;  I  must! 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  'tis  your  certain  ruin 


Nils   Stensson. 
What     then !       Her     must     I     obey     in     all 

things 

Nils  Lykke. 
\With  authority.^     And  vae} 

Nils  Stensson. 
I  shall  keep  my  word;  be  sure  of  that.     The 
secret  shall  not  pass  my  lips  till  you   yourself 
release  me.     But  she  is  my  mother! 

Nils  Lykke. 
\Aside.^      And   Jens    Bielke   in   wait   on   the 


ACTIV.l       LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  143 


road !      Damnation !      He   will   snatch   the   prize 

out  of  my  fingers 

[To  Lady  Inger. 
Wait  till  to-morrow ! 

Lady  Inger, 
[To  Nils  Stensson.]      Count  Sture — do  you 
obey  me  or  not  ? 

Nils   Stensson. 
To  horse ! 

[Goes  up  towards  the  background. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Aside.]     Unhappy  boy!     He  knows  not  what 
he  does. 

[To  Lady  Inger. 
Well,  since  so  it  must  be, — farewell ! 

[Bows  hastily,  and  begins  to  move  away. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Detains    him.]       Nay,    stay!      Not    so.    Sir 
Knight, — not  so  ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
What  mean  you? 

Lady  Inger. 
[In  a  low  voice.]  Nils  Lykke — you  are  a 
traitor !  Hush  !  Let  no  one  see  there  is  discord 
in  the  camp  of  the  leaders.  You  have  won 
Peter  Kanzler's  trust  by  some  devilish  wile  that 
as   yet  is  dark  to  me.      You  have   forced  me  to 


144  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCTIV. 


rebellious  acts — not  to  help  our  cause^  but  to 
further  your  own  plots,  whatever  they  may  be. 
I  can  draw  back  no  more.  But  think  not  there- 
fore that  you  have  conquered !  I  shall  know 
how  to  make  you  harmless 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Lays  his  hand  involuntarily  on  his  sword.] 
Lady  Inger ! 

Lady  Inger. 

Be  calm,  Sir  Councillor !  Your  life  is  safe. 
But  you  come  not  outside  the  gates  of  Ostrat 
before  victory  is  ours. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Death  and  destruction ! 

Lady  Inger. 

It  boots  not  to  resist.  You  come  not  from 
this  place.  So  rest  you  quiet;  'tis  your  wisest 
course. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  himself.]  Ah, — I  am  overreached.  She 
has  been  craftier  than  I.  [A  thought  strikes 
him.]     But  if  I  yet ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Olaf  Skaktavl.]  Ride  with  Count 
Sture's  troops  to  the  frontier ;  then  without  pnn.se 
to  Peter  Kanzler,  and  bring  mc  back  my  cliilii. 


ACT    IV.]      LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  145 


Now  has  he  no  longer  any  plea  for  keeping  from 
me  what  is  my  own. 

[Adds,  as  Olaf  Skaktavl  is  going: 
Wait;  a  token — .     He  that  wears  Sten  Sture's 
ring,  he  is  my  son. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
By  all  the  saints,  you  shall  have  him ! 

Lady  Inger. 
Thanks, — thanks,  my  faithful  friend ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
[To  Finn,  whom  he  has  beckoned  to  him  un- 
observed, and  with  whom  he  has  been  whisper- 
ing.] Good — now  contrive  to  slip  out.  Let  none 
see  you.  The  Swedes  are  in  ambush  half  a 
league  hence.  Tell  the  commander  that  Count 
Sture  is  dead.  The  young  man  you  see  there 
must  on  no  account  be  touched.  Tell  the  com- 
mander so.  Tell  him  the  boy's  life  is  worth 
thousands  to  me. 

Finn. 
It  shall  be  done. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Who  has  meanwhile  been  watching  Nils 
Lykke.]  And  now  go,  all  of  you,  and  God  be 
with  you!  [Points  to  Nils  Lykke.]  This  noble 
knight  cannot  find  it  in  his  heart  to  leave  his 
friends  at  Ostrat  so  hastily.  He  will  abide  here 
with  me  till  the  tidings  of  your  victory  arrive. 


140  LADY     INGKR      OF      OSTRAT.      [aCT    IV. 


Nils  Lykke. 
[To  himself.]      Devil! 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Seises  his  hand.]  Trust  me — you  shall  not 
have  long  to  wait ! 

Nils  Lykke. 

It  is  well;  it  is  well!  [Aside.]  All  may  yet 
be  saved.  If  only  my  message  reach  Jens 
Bielke  in  time 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  EiNAR  HuK,  the  bailiff,  pointing  to 
Finn.]  And  let  that  man  be  placed  under 
close  guard  in  the  castle  dungeon. 

Finn. 
Me? 

The  Bailiff  and  the  Servants. 
Finn ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Aside.]      My  last  anchor  gone  I 

Lady  Inger. 

[Imperatively.]      To  the  dungeon  with  him! 

[Einar  Huk,  Biorn,  and  a  couple  of  the 
house-servants  lead  Finn  out  to  the  left. 


ACT    IV.]      LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  147 


All  the  Rest. 
[Except    Nils    Lykke,    rushing    out    to    the 
right.  ]      Away  !     To  horse^ — to  horse  !     Hail  to 
Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove ! 

Lady  Inger. 
[Passing  close  to  Nils  Lykke  as  she  goes  out 
after  the  others.^     Who  wins.'' 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Remains  alone.]  Who?  Ay,  woe  to  you; 
— your  victory  will  cost  you  dear.  /  wash  my 
hands  of  it.     'Tis  not  /  tliat  am  murdering  him. 

But  my  prey  is  escaping  me  none  the  less; 

and  the  revolt  will  grow  and  spread !— Ah,  'tis 

a  foolhardy,  a  frantic  game  I  have  here  taken 

in  hand !  ,  7-7 

[Listens  at  the  window. 

There  they  ride  clattering  out  through  the  gate- 
way.^ — Now  'tis  closed  after  them — and  I  am 
left  here  a  prisoner. 

No  way  of  escape !  Within  half-an-hour  the 
Swedes  will  be  upon  him.  He  has  thirty  well- 
armed  horsemen  with  him.  'Twill  be  life  or 
death. 

But  if,  after  all,  they  should  take  him  alive? 
— Were  I  but  free,  I  could  overtake  the  Swedes 
eve  they  reacli  the  frontier,  and  make  them  de- 
liver him  up.  [Goes  towards  the  window  in  the 
background  and  looks  out.]  Damnation! 
Guards  outside  on  every  hand.  Can  there  be 
no  way  of  escape? 

[Co77ies    quickly    forward    again;    suddenly 
stops  and  listens. 


148  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.       [aCT 


\''iTiat  is  that?     ^lusic  and  singing.     It  seems 
to  come  from  Elina's  chamber.     Ay^  'tis  she  tliat 

is  singing.     Then  she  is  still  awake 

[A  thought  seems  to  strike  him. 
Elina ! — Ah,  if  that  could  be!  Were  it  possible 
to —  And  why  should  I  not?  Am  I  not  still 
myself?     Says  not  the  song: — 

Fair  maidens  a-many  they  sigh  and  they  pine: 
"  Ah   God,   that   Nils    Lykke   were   mine,   mine, 
mine." 

And   she — ? Elina   Gyldenlove   shall   set 

me  free ! 

[Goes    quickly    but    stealthily    towards    the 
first  door  on  the  left. 


ACT    FIFTH 

The  Banquet  Hall.  It  is  still  night.  The  hall 
is  but  dimly  lighted  by  a  branch-candlestick 
on  the  table,  in  front,  on  the  right. 

Lady  Inqer  is  sitting  by  the  table,  deep  in 
thought. 

Lady  Inger. 

[After  a  pause.]  They  call  me  keen-witted 
beyond  all  others  in  the  land.  I  believe  they 
are  right.  The  keenest-witted —  No  one  knows 
how  I  became  so.  For  more  than  twenty  years 
I  have  fought  to  save  my  child.  That  is  the 
key  to  the  riddle.     Ay,  that  sharpens  the  wits ! 

My  wits .''  Where  have  they  flown  to-night  ? 
What  has  become  of  my  forethought?  There 
is  a  ringing  and  rushing  in  my  ears.  I  see 
shapes  before  me,  so  lifelike  that  methinks  I 
could  lay  hold  on  them. 

[Springs  up. 

Lord  Jesus — what  is  this  ?    Am  I  no  longer  mis- 
tress of  my  reason.''     Is  it  to  come  to  that ? 

[Presses  her  clasped  hands  over  her  head; 
sits  down  again,  and  says  more  calmly: 

Nay,    'tis   nought.      'Twill   pass.      There   is    no 
fear; — it  will  pass. 

How  peaceful  it  is  in  the  hall  to-night !     No 
149 


150  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT,        [aCTV. 


threatening  looks  from  forefathers  or  kinsfolk. 
No  need  to  turn  their  faces  to  the  wall. 

[Rises  again. 

Aj,  'twas  well  that  I  took  heart  at  last.  We 
shall  conquer; — and  then  am  I  at  the  goal  of 
all  my  longings.  I  shall  have  my  child  again. 
[Takes  up  the  light  as  if  to  go,  but  stops 
and  says  musijigly : 
At  the  goal?  The  goal?  To  have  him  back? 
Is  that  all.'' — is  there  nought  further? 

[Sets  the  light  down  on  the  table. 

That  heedless  word  that  Nils  Lykke  threw  forth 
at  random — .  How  could  he  see  my  unborn 
thought  ? 

[More  softly. 

A  king's  mother?  A  king's  mother,  he  said — 
And  why  not?  Have  not  my  fathers  before  me 
ruled  as  kings,  even  though  they  bore  not  the 
kingly  name?  Has  not  my  son  as  good  a  title 
as  the  other  to  the  rights  of  the  house  of  Sture? 
In  tlie  sight  of  God  he  has — if  so  be  there  is 
justice  in  Heaven. 

And  in  an  hour  of  terror  I  have  signed  away 
his  rights,  I  have  recklessly  squandered  them, 
as  a  ransom  for  his  freedom. 

If  they  could  be  recovered? — Would  Heaven 
lie  angered,  if  I — ?  Would  it  call  down  fresh 
troubles  on  my  head  if  I  were  to — ?  Who 
l;nows; — who  knows!  It  may  be  safest  to  re- 
frain. [Tahes  tip  the  light  again. \  I  shall 
have  my  child  again.  That  must  content  me. 
I  will  try  to  rest.  All  these  desperate  thoughts, 
— I  will  sleep  them  away. 


r.]        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  151 


[Goes  towards  the  bach,  hut  stops  in  the 
middle  of  the  hall,  and  sai/s  hroodingly : 
A  king's  mother ! 

[Goes  slowly  out  at  the  hack,  to  the  left. 

[After  a  short  pause.  Nils  Lykke  and 
Elina  Gyldenlove  enter  noiselessly  by 
the  first  door  on  the  left.  Nils  Lykke 
has  a  small  lantern  in  his  hand. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Thron'S   the   light   from   his   lantern   around, 
so  as  to  search  the  room.^      All  is  still.     I  must 
begone. 

Elina. 
Oh,  let  me  look  but  once  more  into  your  eyes, 
before  you  leave  me. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Embraces  her.^      Elina! 

Elina. 
[After  a  short  pause.^^     Will  you  come  never- 
more to  Ostrat? 

Nils  Lykke. 
How  can  you  doubt  that  I  will  come?     Are 
you    not    henceforth    my    betrothed.'' — But    will 
you  be  true  to  me,  Elina?     Will  you  not  forget 
me  ere  we  meet  again  ? 

Elina. 
Do  yori  ask  if  I  will  be  true?     Have  I  any 
■^^ill  left  then?     Have  I  power  to  be  untrue  to 


152  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    V. 


you,  even  if  I  would? — You  came  by  night;  you 
knocked  upon  my  door; — and  I  opened  to  you. 
You  spoke  to  me.  What  was  it  you  said.''  You 
gazed  in  my  eyes.  What  was  the  mystic  might 
that  turned  my  brain,  and  hired  me  as  into  a 
magic  net.''  [Hides  her  face  on  his  shoulder.] 
Oh,  look  not  on  me,  Nils  Lykke !  You  must 
not  look  upon  me  after  this —  True,  say  you? 
Do  you  not  own  me?  I  am  yours; — I  must 
be  yours — to  all  eternity. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Now,  by  my  knightly  honour,  ere  the  year  be 
past,  you  shall  sit  as  my  wife  in  the  hall  of  my 
fathers ! 

Elina. 
No  vows.  Nils  Lykke !     No  oaths  to  me. 

Nils  Lykke. 

What  ails  you?  Why  do  you  shake  your  head 
so  mournfully? 

Elina, 

Because  I  know  that  the  same  soft  words 
wherewith  you  turned  my  brain,  you  have  whis- 
pered to  so  many  a  one  before.  Nay,  nay,  be 
not  angry,  my  beloved !  In  nowise  do  I  reproach 
you,  as  I  did  wliile  yet  I  knew  you  not.  Now 
I  understand  how  high  above  all  others  is  your 
^oal.  How  can  love  be  aught  to  you  but  a 
pastime,  or  woman  but  a  toy? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Elina, — hear  me  ! 


act  v.]      lady    inger    of    ostrat.         153 

Elina. 
As  I  grew  up,  your  name  was  ever  in  my  ears. 
I  hated  the  name,  for  meseemed  that  all  women 
were  dishonoured  by  your  life.  And  yet, — how 
strange ! — when  I  built  up  in  my  dreams  the 
life  that  should  be  mine,  you  were  ever  my  hero, 
though  I  knew  it  not.  Now  I  understand  it  all. 
What  was  it  that  I  felt?  It  was  a  foreboding, 
a  mysterious  longing  for  you,  you  only  one — 
for  you  that  were  one  day  to  come  and  reveal 
to  me  all  the  glory  of  life. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Aside,  putting  down  the  lantern  on  the 
table.]  How  is  it  with  me?  This  dizzy  fascina- 
tion— .  If  this  it  be  to  love,  then  have  I  never 
known  it  till  this  hour. — Is  there  not  yet  time — ? 
Oh  horror — Lucia  !  [Sinks  into  the  chair. 

Elina. 
What  is  amiss  with  you  ?     So  heavy  a  sigh 


Nils  Lykke. 

O,  'tis  nought, — nought ! 

Elina, — now  will  I  confess  all  to  you.  I  have 
beguiled  many  with  both  words  and  glances;  I 
have  said  to  many  a  one  what  I  whispered  to  you 
this  night.     But  trust  me 

Elina. 
Hush !     No  more  of  that.     My  love  is  no  ex- 
change for  that  you  give  me.      No,  no ;   I   love 
you  because  ;/our  every  glance  commands  it  like 
a  king's  decree.  [Lies  dorvn  at  his  feet. 


154  LADY     INGER     OF      iisTRAT.        [aCTV. 


Oh,  let  me  once  more  stamp  that  kingly  man- 
date deep  into  my  soul,  thougli  well  I  know  it 
stands  imprinted  there  for  all  time  and  eternity. 
Dear  God — how  little  I  have  known  myself ! 
'Twas  but  to-night  I  said  to  my  mother:  "  My 
pride  is  my  life."  And  what  is  now  my  pride? 
Is  it  to  know  my  countrymen  free,  or  my  house 
held  in  honour  throughout  many  lands  ?  Oh, 
no,  no !  My  love  is  my  pride.  The  little  dog 
is  proud  when  he  may  sit  by  his  master's  feet 
and  eat  bread-crumbs  from  his  liand.  Even  so 
am  I  proud,  so  long  as  I  may  sit  at  your  feet, 
while  your  looks  and  your  words  nourish  me 
with  the  bread  of  life.  See,  therefore,  I  say  to 
you,  even  as  I  said  but  now  to  my  mother:  "  My 
love  is  my  life;"  for  therein  lies  all  my  pride, 
now  and  evermore. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Raises  her  up  on  his  lap.]  Nay,  nay — not 
at  my  feet,  but  at  my  side  is  j'^our  place, — how 
high  soever  fate  may  exalt  me.  Ay,  Elina — you 
have  led  me  into  a  better  path;  and  should  it  one 
day  be  granted  me  to  atone  by  a  deed  of  fame 
for  the  sins  of  my  reckless  youth,  then  shall  the 
honour  be  yours  and  mine  together. 

Elina. 

Ah,  you  speak  as  though  I  w^cre  still  that 
Elina  who  but  tliis  evening  flung  down  the 
flowers  at  your  feet. 

I  have  read  in  my  books  of  tlie  manj'-coloured 
life  in  far-off"  lands.  To  tlie  winding  of  horns, 
the  knight  rides  fortli  into  tlic  greenwood,  with 


LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.  155 


his  falcon  on  his  wrist.  Even  so  do  j'ou  go  your 
way  through  life; — your  name  rings  out  before 
you  whitliersoever  you  fare. — All  that  /  desire 
of  the  glory,  is  to  rest  like  the  falcon  on  your 
arm.  Like  him  was  I,  too,  blind  to  light  and 
life,  till  you  loosed  the  hood  from  my  eyes  and 
set  me  soaring  high  over  the  tree-tops. — But 
trust  me — bold  as  my  flight  may  be,  yet  shall  I 
ever  turn  back  to  my  cage. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Rises.]       Then    will    I    bid    defiance   to    the 
past!      See  now; — take  this  ring,  and  be  mine 
before    God    and    men — mine, — ay,    though    it 
should  trouble  the  dreams  of  the  dead. 

Elina. 
You  make  me  tremble.     What  is  it  that ? 


Nils  Lykke. 

'Tis  nought.  Come,  let  me  place  the  ring  on 
your  finger. — Even  so — now  are  you  my  be- 
trothed ! 

Elina. 

I  Nils  Lykke's  bride !  It  seems  but  a  dream, 
all  that  has  befallen  tliis  niglit.  Oh,  but  so  fair 
a  dream !  I\Iy  breast  is  so  light.  No  longer  is 
there  bitterness  and  hatred  in  my  soul.  I  will 
atone  to  all  whom  I  have  wronged.  I  have  been 
unloving  to  my  mother.  To-morrow  will  I  go 
to  her ;  she  must  forgive  me  where  I  have  erred. 

Nils  Lykke. 
And  give  her  consent  to  our  bond. 


156  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    V. 

Elina. 

That  will  she.  Oh,  I  am  sure  she  will.  My 
mother  is  kind;  all  the  world  is  kind; — I  can 
no  longer  feel  hatred  for  any  living  soul — save 
one. 

Nils  Lykkk. 
Save  one? 

Elina. 

Ah,  'tis  a  mournful  history.  I  had  a  sis- 
ter  

Nils  Lykkk. 
Lucia .'' 

Elina. 

Did  you  know  Lucia.'' 

Nils  Lykke. 
No,  no;  I  have  but  heard  her  name. 

Elina. 

She  too  gave  her  heart  to  a  knight.  He  be- 
trayed her; — now  she  is  in  Heaven. 

Nils  Lykke. 
And  you 

Elina. 
I  hate  him. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Hate  him  not!  If  there  be  mercy  in  your 
heart,  forgive  him  his  sin.  Trust  me,  he  bears 
his  punishment  in  his  own  breast. 


ACT    v.]        LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  157 


Elina. 
Him  will  I  never  forgive!      I  cannot,  even 

if  I  would ;  for  I  have  sworn  so  dear  an  oath 

[Listening. 
Hush!     Can  you  hear ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
What?     Where? 

Elina. 
Without;  far  off.     The  noise  of  many  horse- 
men on  the  high-road. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ah,    'tis    they!        And    I    had    forgotten — I 
They   are  coming  hither.      Then   is  the  danger 
great !     I  must  begone  ! 

Elina. 
But  whither?     Oh,  Nils  Lykke,  what  are  you 

hiding ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Tomorrow,  Elina — ;   for  as  God  lives,  I  will 
return   tomorrow. — Quickly   now — where   is   the 
secret  passage  whereof  you  told  me? 

Elina. 
Through  the  grave-vault.      See, — here  is  the 
trap-door 

Nils  Lykke. 
The  grave-vault!      [To  himself.]      No  matter, 
he  must  be  saved! 


158  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCTV. 


Elina. 
[Bt/  the  wi7idow.]    The  horsemen  have  reached 
the  gate [Hands  him  the  lantern. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Oh,  then [Begins  to  descend. 

Elina. 
Go  forward  along  tlie  passage  till  you  reach 
the   coffin  witli   the   death's-head   and   the   black 
cross;  it  is  Lucia's 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Climbs    back    hastily    and    shuts    the    trap- 
door.]     Lucia's!     Pah ! 

Elina. 
What  said  you.'' 

Nils  Lykke. 
Nay,  nothing.      'Twas  the  air  of  the  graves 
that  made  me  dizzy. 

Elina. 
Hark;  they  are  hammering  at  the  gate! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Lets  the  lantern  fall.]     Ah!  too  late ! 

[BiORN    enters    hurriedly    from    the    right, 
carrying  a  light. 

Elina. 

[Goes  towards  him.]      What  is  amiss,  Biorn? 
What  is  it? 


LADY      IXGER      OF      OSTRAT.  1-^9 


BlORN. 

An  ambuscade  !     Count  Sture 

Elina. 
Count  Sture?     What  of  him? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Have  they  killed  him? 

BlORN. 

[To  Elina.]      Where  is  your  mother? 

Two   Retainers. 

[Rtishi77g  in  from  the  right.]  Lady  Inger! 
Lady  Inger ! 

[Lauy  Inger  Gyldenlove  enters  bi/  the 
furthest  hack  door  on  the  left,  with  a 
branch-candlestick,  lighted,  in  her  hand, 
and  says  quickly: 

Lady  Inger. 

I  know  all.  Down  with  you  to  the  courtyard ! 
Keep  the  gnte  open  for  our  friends^  but  closed 
against  all  others  ! 

[Puts  down  the  candlestick  on  the  table  to 
the  left.  BioRN  and  the  two  Retainers 
go  out  again  to  the  right. 

Lady  Inger. 
[To   Nils   Lykke.]      So  that  was  the  trap, 
Sir  Councillor ! 


i60  LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    V. 


Nils  Lykke. 
Inger  Gyldenlove^  believe  me- 


Lady  Inger. 

An  ambuscade  that  was  to  snap  him  up  as 
soon  as  you  had  secured  the  promise  that  should 
destroy  me ! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Takes  out  the  paper  and  tears  it  to  pieces.] 
There  is  your  promise.  I  keep  nothing  that  can 
bear  witness  against  you. 

Lady  Inger. 
What  is  this? 

Nils  Lykke. 

From  this  hour  will  I  put  your  thoughts  of 
me  to  shame.  If  I  have  sinned  against  you^— by 
Heaven  I  will  strive  to  repair  my  crime.  But 
now  I  must  out,  if  I  have  to  hew  my  way 
through  the  gate  ! — Elina — tell  your  mother  all ! 
— And  you,  Lady  Inger,  let  our  reckoning  be 
forgotten  !  Be  generous — and  silent !  Trust 
me,  ere  dawn  of  day  you  shall  owe  me  a  life's 
gratitude.  [Goes  out  quickly  to  the  right. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Looks  after  him  with  exultation.]  'Tis  well! 
I  understand  him. 

[Turns  to  Elina. 

Nils  Lykke—?     Well ? 


ACT    v.]        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  l6l 

Elina. 
He  knocked  upon  my  door,  and  set  this  ring 
upon  my  finger. 

Lady  Inqer. 
And  from  his  soul  he  holds  you  dear? 

Elina. 
He  has  said  so,  and  I  believe  him. 

Lady  Inger. 
Bravely    done,    Elina !      Ha-ha,    Sir    Knight, 
now  is  it  my  turn ! 

Elina. 

My  mother — you  are  so  strange.  Ah,  yes — 
I  know — 'tis  my  unloving  ways  that  have  an- 
gered you. 

Lady  Inger. 

Not  so,  dear  Elina !  You  are  an  obedient 
child.  You  have  opened  your  door  to  him ;  you 
have  hearkened  to  his  soft  words.  I  know  full 
well  what  it  must  have  cost  you;  for  I  know 
your  hatred 

Elina. 
But,  my  mother 


Lady  Inger. 

Hush!      We    have    played    into    each    other's 

hands.      What    wiles    did    you    use,    my    subtle 

daughter.''     I  saw  the  love  shine  out  of  his  eyes. 

Hold  him  fast  now !     Draw  the  net  closer  and 


162  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.        [aCTV. 


closer  about  him;  and  then —  Ah,  Elina,  if  we 
could  but  rend  asunder  his  perjured  heart  within 
his  breast ! 

Elina. 
Woe  is  me — what  is  it  you  say? 

Lady  Inger. 
Let  not  your  courage  fail  you.  Hearken  to 
me.  I  know  a  word  that  will  keep  you  firm. 
Know  then —  [Listening.]  They  are  fighting 
before  the  gate.  Courage !  Now  comes  the 
pinch!  [Turns  again  to  Elina.]  Know  then: 
Nils  Lykke  was  the  man  that  brought  your  sis- 
ter to  her  grave. 

Elina. 
[With  a  shriek.]      Lucia! 

Lady  Inger. 
He  it  was,  as  truly  as  there  is  an  Avenger 
above  us ! 

Elina. 
Then  Heaven  be  with  me ! 

Lady  Inger. 
[Appalled.]      Elina ?! 

Elina. 
I  am  his  bride  in  the  sight  of  God. 

Lady  Inger. 
Unhappy  child, — what  have  you  done? 


ACT    v.]        LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  l63 


Elina. 
[In    a    toneless    voice.]       ^fade    shipwreck    of 
my  soul. — Good-night,  my  mother  ! 

[She  goes  out  to  the  left. 

Lady  Inger, 

Ha-ha-ha !  It  goes  down-hill  apace  with 
Inger  Gyldenlove's  house.  There  went  the 
last  of  my  daughters. 

Why  could  I  not  keep  silence.''  Had  she 
known  nought,  it  may  be  she  had  been  happy 
— after  a  kind. 

It  was  to  be  so.  It  is  written  up  yonder  in 
the  stars  that  I  am  to  break  off  one  green 
branch  after  another  till  the  trunk  stand  leaf- 
less at  last. 

'Tis  well,  'tis  well !  I  shall  have  my  son 
again.  Of  the  others,  of  my  daughters,  I  will 
not  think. 

My  reckoning?  To  face  my  reckoning? — It 
falls  not  due  till  the  last  great  day  of  wrath. — 
That  comes  not  yet  awhile. 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Calling  from  outside  on  the  right.]      Ho — 
shut  the  gate ! 

Lady  Inger.. 
Count  Sture's  voice ! 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Rushes    in,    unarmed,    and    with    his    clothes 
torn,  and  shouts   with  a   laugh  of  desperation.] 
Well  met  again,  Inger  Gyldenlove ! 


l64  LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        FaCT    V. 


Lady  Inger. 
What  have  you  lost? 

Nils  Stensson. 
My  kingdom  and  my  life  ! 

Lady  Inger. 
And  the  peasants  ?     My  servants  ? — where  are 
they? 

Nils  Stensson. 
You  will  find  the  carcasses   along  the  high- 
way.    Who  has  the  rest,  I  cannot  tell  you. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[Outside  on  the  right.]     Count  Sture!    Where 
are  you? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Here,  here ! 

[Olaf  Skaktavl  comes  in  with  his  right 
hand  wrapped  in  a  clout. 

Lady  Inger. 
Alas,  Olaf  Skaktavl,  you  too ! 


Olaf  Skaktavl. 
'Twas  impossible  to  break  through. 

Lady  Inger. 
You  are  wounded,  I  see ! 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
A  finger  the  less;  that  is  all. 


ACT    v.]        LADY      INOER      OF      OSTRAT.  l65 


Nils  Stensson. 
Where  are  the  Swedes? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
At  our   heels.      They   are   breaking  open   the 

gate 

Nils  Stensson. 
Oh,  God!      No,  no!     I   cannot — I  will  not 
die. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
A  hiding-place.  Lady  Inger !     Is  there  no  cor- 
ner where  we  can  hide  him.^ 

Lady  Inger. 
But  if  they  search  the  castle ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ay,  ay ;  they  will  find  me !     And  then  to  be 

dragged  away  to  prison,  or  be  strung  up ! 

No,  no,  Inger  Gyldenlove, — I  know  full  well, — 
you  will  never  suiTer  that  to  be ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[Listening.]     There  burst  the  lock. 

Lady  Inger. 
[At  the  Tvindow.]      Many  men  rush  in  at  the 
gateway. 

Nils  Stensson. 
And  to  lose  my  life  now!      Now,  when  my 
true  life  was  but  beginning!     Now,  when  I  have 
so  lately  learnt  that   I   have  aught  to  live   for. 


l66  LADY     INGKU      OF      USTRAT.        [aCT    V. 


No,  no,  no ! — Think  not  I  am  a  coward,  Inger 
Gyldenlove !        Might     I      but     have     time     to 

show — 

Lady  Inger. 
I  hear  them  now  in  the  hall  below. 

[Firmly  to  Olaf  Skaktavl. 
He  must  be  saved — cost  wliat  it  will ! 

Nils  Stensson. 
{Seizes  her  hand.]      Oh,  I  knew  it; — you  are 
noble  and  good ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
But  how  ?     Since  we  cannot  hide  him 


Nils  Stensson. 
Ah,  I  have  it !      I  have  it !     The  secret ! 

Lady  Inger. 
The  secret? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Even  so ;  yours  and  mine ! 

Lady  Inger. 
Merciful  Heaven — you  know  it? 

Nils   Stensson. 
From  first  to  last.     And  now  when  'tis  life  or 
death — -     Wliere  is   Nils  Lykke? 

Lady  Inger. 
Fled. 


ACT    v.]        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  l67 

Nils  Stensson. 

Fled  ?  Then  God  help  me ;  for  he  alone  can 
unseal  my  lips. — But  what  is  a  promise  against 
a  life !     When  the  Swedish  captain  comes 

Lady  Inger. 
What  then?     What  will  you  do? 


Nils  Stensson. 
Purchase  life  and  freedom; — tell  him  all. 

Lady  Inger. 
Oh  no,  no ; — be  merciful ! 

Nils  Stensson. 

Nought  else  can  save  me.     When  I  have  told 
him  what  I  know 

Lady  Inger. 

[Looks    at    him    with    suppressed   agitation.] 
You  will  be  safe? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ay,   safe!      Nils    Lykke   will   speak    for   me. 
You  see,  'tis  the  last  resource. 

Lady  Inger. 
\Composedly ,  with  emphasis.]      The  last  re- 
source?    Right,  right — the  last  resource  all  are 
free  to  try.      [Points  to  the  left.]      See,  mean- 
while you  can  hide  in  there. 


168  LADY     INGER      OF      OSTRAT. 


Nils  Stensson. 
[In  a  low  voice.]     Trust  me — you  will  never 
repent  of  this. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Half  to  herself.]     God  grant  that  j'ou  speak 
the  truth ! 

[Nils  Stensson  goes  out  hastily  by  the 
furthest  door  on  the  left.  Olaf  Skak- 
TAVL  is  follorvingj  but  Lady  Inger  de- 
tains him. 

Lady  Inger. 
Did  you  understand  his  meaning.'' 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
The  dastard !     He  would  betray  your  secret. 
He  would  sacrifice  your  son  to  save  himself. 

Lady  Inger. 

When  life  is  at  stake,  he  said,  we  must  try 
the  last  resource. — 'Tis  well,  Olaf  Skaktavl, — 
let  it  be  as  he  has  said ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
What  mean  you? 

Lady  Inger. 
Life  against  life!     One  of  them  must  perish. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Ah — ^you  would ? 


LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.  l69 


Lady  Inger. 


If  we  close  not  the  lips  of  him  that  is  within 
ere  he  come  to  speech  with  the  Swedish  captain, 
then  is  my  son  lost  to  me.  But  if,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  be  swept  from  my  path,  when  the  time 
comes  I  can  claim  all  his  rights  for  my  own 
child.  Then  shall  you  see  that  Inger  Ottis' 
daughter  has  metal  in  her  yet.  Of  this  be  as- 
sured— you  shall  not  have  long  to  wait  for  the 
vengeance  you  have  thirsted  after  for  twenty 
years. — Hark !  They  are  coming  up  the  stairs  ! 
Olaf  Skaktavl, — it  lies  with  you  whether  to- 
morrow I  shall  be  no  more  than  a  childless 
woman,  or 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

So  be  it !  I  have  yet  one  sound  hand  left. 
[Gives  her  his  hand.]  Inger  Gyldenlove — your 
name  shall  not  die  out  through  me. 

[Follows    Nils    Stensson    into    the    inner 
room. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Pale  and  trembling.]     But  dare  I ? 

[A  noise  is  heard  in  the  room;  she  rushes 
with  a  scream  towards  the  door. 
No,  no, — it  must  not  be ! 

[A  heavy  fall  is  heard  within;  she  covers 
her  ears  with  her  hands  and  hurries  hack 
across  the  hall  with  a  wild  look.  After 
a  pause  she  takes  her  hands  cautiously 
away,  listens  again,  and  says  softly: 
Now  it  is  over.     All  is  still  within 


170  LADY     INGER     OF     OSTRAT.        [aCT   V. 


Thou  sawest  it,  God — I   repented  me!      But 
Olaf  Skaktavl  was  too  swift  of  hand. 

[Olaf  Skaktavl  comes  silently  into  the 
hall. 

Lady  Inger. 
[After  a  pause,  without  looking  at  Aim.]      Is 
it  done? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
You  need  fear  him  no  more ;  he  will  betray  no 
one. 

Lady  Inger. 
[As  before.^     Then  he  is  dumb.'' 

Olaf   Skaktavl. 
Six  inches  of  steel  in  his  breast.     I  felled  him 
with  my  left  hand. 

Lady  Inger. 
Ay,  ay — the  right  was  too  good  for  such  work. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
That  is  your  affair; — the  thought  was  yours. 
— And    now    to    Sweden !      Peace    be    with    you 
meanwhile !     When  next  we  meet  at  Ostrat,  I 
shall  bring  another  with  me. 

[Goes  out  by  the  furthest  door  on  the  right. 

Lady  Inger. 
Blood  on  my  hands.     Then  'twas  to  come  to 
that! — He  begins  to  be  dear-bought  now. 

[Biorn  comes  in,  with  a  number  of  Swed- 
ish Men-at-Arms,  by  the  first  door  on 
the  right. 


ACT    v.]        LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.  171 


One  of  the  Men-at-Arms. 
Pardon,  if  you  are  the  lady  of  the  house 

Lady  Inger. 
Is  it  Count  Sture  ye  seek? 

The  Man-at-Arms. 
The  same. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  you  are  on  the  right  track.  The  Count 
has  sought  refuge  with  me. 

The  Man-at-Arms. 

Refuge?  Pardon,  my  noble  lady, — you  have 
no  power  to  harbour  him;  for 

Lady  Inger. 

That  the  Count  himself  has  doubtless  under- 
stood ;  and  therefore  he  has- — ay,  look  for  your- 
selves— therefore  he  has  taken  his  own  life. 

The  Man-at-Arms. 
His  own  life ! 

Lady  Inger. 

Look  for  yourselves,  I  say.  You  will  find  the 
corpse  within  there.  And  since  he  already 
stands  before  another  judge,  it  is  my  prayer 
that  he  may  be  borne  hence  with  all  the  honour 
that  beseems  his  noble  birth. — Biorn,  you  know 
my  own  coffin  has  stood  ready  this  many  a  year 


172  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.        [aCTV. 


in  the  secret  chamber.  [To  the  Men-at-Arms.] 
I  pray  that  in  it  you  will  bear  Count  Sture's 
body  to  Sweden. 

The  Man-at-Arms. 

It  shall  be  as  you  command.  [  To  one  of  the 
others.]  Haste  with  these  tidings  to  Jens 
Bielke.  He  holds  the  road  with  the  rest  of  the 
troop.     We  others  must  in  and 

[One  of  the  Men-at-Arms  goes  out  to  the 
right  J  the  others  go  with  Biorn  into  the 
room  on  the  left. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Moves  about  for  a  time  in  uneasy  silence.] 
If  Count  Sture  had  not  taken  such  hurried  leave 
of  the  world-,  within  a  month  he  had  hung  on  a 
gallows,  or  had  lain  for  all  his  days  in  a  dun- 
geon. Had  he  been  better  served  with  such  a 
lot.? 

Or  else  he  had  bought  his  life  by  betraying 
my  child  into  the  hands  of  my  foes.  Is  it  /, 
then,  that  have  slain  him  ?  Does  not  even  the 
wolf  defend  her  cubs  ?  Who  dare  condemn  me 
for  striking  my  claws  into  him  that  would  have 
reft  me  of  my  flesli  and  blood.'' — It  had  to  be. 
No  mother  but  would  have  done  even  as  I. 

But  'tis  no  time  for  idle  musings  now.  I  must 
to  work. 

[Sits  down   by   the   table  on   the  left. 

1  will  write  to  all  my  friends  throughout  the 
land.      They  must  rise  as  one  man  to   support 


ACT    v.]        LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  173 


the  great  cause.  A  new  king, — regent  first,  and 
then  king 

[Begins  to  write,  but  falls  into  thought,  and 
says  softly: 

Who  will  be  chosen  in  the  dead  man's  place  ? — 
A  king's  mother — ?  'Tis  a  fair  word.  It  has 
but  one  blemish — the  hateful  likeness  to  another 
word. — King's  mother  and — king's  murder- 
er.^— King's  murderer — one  that  takes  a  king's 
life.     King's  mother — one  that  gives  a  king  life. 

[She  rises. 
Well,  then;    I   will   make   good  what   I   have 
taken. — My  son  shall  be  a  king! 

[She  sits   down   again   and   begins   writing, 

but   pushes    the   paper   away   again,   and 

leans  back  in  her  chair. 

There  is  ever  an  eerie  feeling  in  a  house  where 

lies    a   corpse.      'Tis   therefore   my   mood    is   so 

strange.       [Turns    her   head   to   one   side   as   if 

speaking  to  some  one.]      Not  therefore?     Why 

else  should  it  be? 

[Broodingly. 
Is  there  such  a  great  gulf,  then,  between  open- 
ly striking  down  a  foe  and  slaying  one — thus  ? 
Knut  Alfson  had  cleft  many  a  brow  with  his 
sword ;  yet  was  his  own  as  peaceful  as  a  child's. 
Why  then  do  I  ever  see  this — [7nakes  a  motion 
as  though  striking  with  a  knife] — this  stab  in 
the  heart — and  the  gush  of  red  blood  after? 

[Rings,  and  goes  on  speaking  while  shift- 
ing about  her  papers. 

•The  words   in   the   original   are   "Konfjenicxler"   and 
"  Kongemordcr, "  a  difference  of  one  letter  only 


174  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.        [aCTV. 


Hereafter  I  will  have  nought  to  do  with  such 
ugly  sights.  I  will  be  at  work  both  day  and 
night.  And  in  a  month — in  a  month  my  son 
will  be  here 

BlORN. 

[Entering.]  Did  you  strike  the  bell,  my 
lady.? 

Lady  Inger. 

[Writing.]  Bring  more  lights.  See  to  it  in 
future  that  there  are  many  lights  in  the  room. 

[BioRN  goes  out  again  to  the  left. 

Lady  Inger. 

[After  a  pause,  rises  impetuously.]  No,  no, 
no ;- — I  cannot  guide  the  pen  to-night !     My  head 

is  burning  and  tlirobbing 

[Startled,  listens. 
What  is  that.''  Ah,  they  are  screwing  the  lid 
on  the  coffin. 

They  told  me  when  I  was  a  child  the  story 
of  Sir  Aage,^  who  rose  up  and  walked  with  his 
coffin  on  his  back. — If  he  in  there  bethought 
him  one  night  to  come  with  the  coffin  on  his 
back,  and  thank  me  for  the  loan.''  [Laughs 
quietly.]  H'm — what  have  we  grown  people 
to  do  with  childish  fancies?  [Vehemently.] 
Nevertheless,  such  stories  do  no  good !  They 
give  uneasy  dreams.  When  my  son  is  king,  they 
shall  be  forbidden. 

[Paces   up  and  down  once  or  trvice;  then 
opens  the  window. 

*  Pronounce  Oagke. 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  175 


How  long  is  it,  commonly,  ere  a  body  begins 
to  rot?  All  the  rooms  must  be  aired.  'Tis  not 
wholesome  here  till  that  be  done. 

[BiORN  comes  in  with  two  lighted  branch- 
candlesticks,  which  he  places  on  the 
tables. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Who  has  set  to  work  at  the  papers  again.^ 
It  is  well.  See  you  forget  not  what  I  have  said. 
Many  lights  on  the  table ! 

What  are  they  about  now  in  there? 

BlORN. 

They   are   still   screwing   down   the   coffin-lid. 

Lady  Inger. 

{Writing.^  Are  they  screwing  it  down 
tight? 

Biorn. 

As  tight  as  need  be. 

Lady  Inger. 

Ay,  ay — who  can  tell  how  tight  it  needs  to 
be?     Do  you  see  that  'tis  well  done. 

\Goes  up  to  him  with  her  hand  fidl  of 
papers,  and  says  mysteriously : 
Biorn,  you  are  an  old  man;  but  one  counsel  I 
will  give  you.  Be  on  your  guard  against  all 
men — both  those  that  are  dead  and  those  that 
are  still  to  die. — Now  go  in — go  in  and  see  to 
it  that  they  screw  the  lid  down  tiglitly. 


176  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.        [a( 


BlORN. 

[Softly,  shaking  his   head.]      I   cannot  make 
her  out. 

[Goes  back  again  into  the  room  on  the  left. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Begins  to  seal  a  letter,  hut  throws  it  down 

half-closed;  walks  up  and  down  awhile,  and  then 

says  vehemently  :\     Were  I  a  coward  I  had  never 

done  it — never  to  all  eternity !    Were  I  a  coward, 

I  had  shrieked  to  myself:  Refrain,  while  there 

is  yet  a  shred  of  hope  for  the  saving  of  thy  soul ! 

[Her  eye  falls  on  Sten  Sture's  picture;  she 

turns  to  avoid  seeing  it,  and  says  softly: 

He  is  laughing  down  at  me  as  though  he  were 

alive !     Pah ! 

[Turns  the  picture  to  the  wall  without  look- 
ing at  it. 
Wherefore  did  you  laugh  ?     Was  it  because  I 
did  evil  to  your  son  ?     But  the  other, — is  not  he 
your  son  too?     And  he  is  mine  as  well;  mark 
that ! 

[Glances  stealthily  along  the  row  of  pic- 
tures. 
So  wild  as  they  are  to-night,  I  have  never 
seen  them  yet.  Their  eyes  follow  me  wherever 
I  may  go.  [Stamps  on  the  floor.]  I  will  not 
have  it !  I  will  have  peace  in  my  house !  [Be- 
gins to  turn  all  the  pictures  to  the  wall.]      Ay, 

if  it  were  the  Holy  Virgin  herself Think- 

est  thou  now  is  the  time ?     Why  didst  thou 

never   hear    my    prayers,    my    burning    prayers, 
that  I  might  have  my  child  again  ?     Why .''     Be- 


LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.  177 


cause  the  monk  of  Wittenberg  is  right:   There 
is  no  mediator  between  God  and  man ! 

[She   draws   her   breath   heavily,  and   con- 
tinues  in   ever-increasing  distraction. 

'Tis  well  that  I  know  what  to  think  in  such 
things.  There  was  no  one  to  see  what  was  done 
in  there.  There  is  none  to  bear  witness  against 
me. 

[Suddenly    stretches    out    her    hands    and 
whispers : 

My  son  !  My  beloved  child  !  Come  to  me  ! 
Here  I  am! — Hush!  I  will  tell  you  something: 
They  hate  me  up  there — beyond  the  stars — be- 
cause I  bore  you  into  the  world.  'Twas  their 
will  that  I  should  bear  the  Lord  God's  standard 
over  all  the  land.  But  I  went  my  own  way. 
That  is  why  I  have  had  to  suffer  so  much  and 
so  long. 

BlORN. 

[Comes  from  the  room  on  the  left.]  My  lady, 
I  have  to  tell  you — -  Christ  save  me — what  is 
this  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[Has  climbed  up  into  the  high-seat  by  the 
right-hand  wall.]  Hush!  Hush!  I  am  the 
King's  mother.  My  son  has  been  chosen  king. 
The  struggle  was  hard  ere  it  came  to  this — for 
'twas  with  the  Almighty  One  himself  I  had  to 
strive. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Comes  in  breathless  from  the  right.]  He  is 
saved !  I  have  Jens  Bielke's  promise.  Lady 
Inger, — know  that 


178  LADY     INGER     OF      OSTRAT.        [aCTV. 


Lady  Inger. 
Peace,  I  say  !  look  how  the  people  swarm. 
[A   funeral  hymn   is   heard  from   the   room 
within. 

There  comes  the  coronation  train.  What  a 
throng !  All  men  bow  themselves  before  the 
King's  mother.  Ay,  ay;  has  she  not  fought  for 
her  son — even  till  her  hands  grew  red  withal.'' — 
Where  are  my  daughters .''     I  see  them  not. 

Nils  Lykke. 
God's  blood  ! — what  has  befallen  here  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
My  daughters — my  fair  daughters  !  I  have 
none  any  more.  I  had  one  left,  and  her  I  lost 
even  as  she  was  mounting  her  bridal  bed. 
\Whispers.^  In  it  lay  Lucia  dead.  There  was 
no  room  for  two. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ah — it  has   come  to  this !      The   Lord's  ven- 
geance is  upon  me. 

Lady  Inger. 
Can  you  see  him }  Look,  look !  'Tis  the 
King.  It  is  Inger  Gyldenlove's  son !  I  know 
him  by  the  crown  and  by  Sten  Sture's  ring  that 
he  wears  round  his  neck.  Hark,  what  a  joyful 
sound  !  He  is  coming !  Soon  will  he  be  in  my 
arms  !     Ha-ha  ! — who  conquers,  God  or  I .'' 

\The    Men-at-Arms    come    out    with    the 
coffin. 


act  v.]      lady    inger    of    ostrat.         179 

Lady  Inger. 
[Clutches   at    her    head   and   shrieks.]       The 
corpse!       [Whispers.]       Pah!      'Tis    a    hideous 
dream.  [Sinks  back  into  the  high-seat. 

Jens  Bielke. 
[Who  has  come  in  front  the  right,  stops  and 
cries    in    astonish7nent.]       Dead!       Then    after 
all 

One  of  the  Men-at-Arms. 
'Twas  he  himself  that 

Jens  Bielke. 
[With    a   look    at    Nils    Lykke.]       He   him- 
self  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Hush! 

Lady  Inger. 
[Faintly,  coming  to  herself.]      Ay,   right; — 
now  I  remember  all. 

Jens  Bielke. 
[To     the     Men-at-Arms.]        Set    down    the 
corpse.     It  is  not  Count  Sture. 

One  of  the  Men-at-Arms. 
Your    pardon,    Captain; — this    ring    that    he 
wore  around  his  neck 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Seizes  his  arm.]     Be  still! 


180  LADY      INGER      OF      OSTRAT.        [aCT    V. 


Lady  Inger. 
[Starts  «p.]     The  ring?     The  ring! 

[Rushes  up  and  snatches  the  ring  from, 
him. 

Sten  Sture's  ring!    [With  a  shrieh.^    Oh  God, 
oh  God — my  son  ! 

[Throrvs  herself  down  on  the  coffin. 

The   Men-at-Arms. 
Her  son  ? 

Jens  Biei.ke. 
[At  the  same  time.]     Inger  Gyldenlove's  son? 

Nils  Lykke. 
So  is  it. 

Jens  Bielke. 
But  why  did  you  not  tell  me ? 

BlORN. 

[Trying  to  raise  her  up.]      Help!  help!     My 
lady — what  ails  you?  what  lack  you? 

Lady  Inger. 
[In  a  faint  voice,  half  raising  herself.]     What 
lack  I  ?      One  coffin  more.      A  grave  beside  my 

child 

[Sinks  again,  senseless,  on  the  coffin.  Nils 
Lykke  goes  hastily  out  to  the  right. 
General  consternation  among  the  rest. 


THE    FEAST    AT    SOLHOUG 

(1856) 


THE    AUTHOR'S    PREFACE    TO    THE 
SECOND   EDITION 

I  WROTE  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  in  Bergen  in 
the  summer  of  1855 — that  is  to  say,  about 
twenty-eight  years  ago. 

The  play  was  acted  for  the  first  time  on 
January  2,  1856,  also  at  Bergen,  as  a  gala  per- 
formance on  the  anniversary  of  the  foundation 
of  the  Norwegian  Stage. 

As  I  was  then  stage-manager  of  the  Bergen 
Theatre,  it  was  I  myself  who  conducted  the  re- 
hearsals of  my  play.  It  received  an  excellent, 
a  remarkably  sympathetic  interpretation.  Acted 
with  pleasure  and  enthusiasm,  it  was  received 
in  the  same  spirit.  The  "  Bergen  emotional- 
ism," which  is  said  to  have  decided  the  result 
of  the  latest  elections  in  those  parts,  ran  high 
that  evening  in  the  crowded  theatre.  The  per- 
formance ended  with  repeated  calls  for  the  au- 
thor and  for  the  actors.  Later  in  the  evening 
I  was  serenaded  by  the  orchestra,  accompanied 
by  a  great  part  of  the  audience.  I  almost  think 
that  I  went  so  far  as  to  make  some  kind  of 
speech  from  my  window;  certain  I  am  that  I 
felt  extremely  happy. 

A  couple  of  months  later.  The  Feast  at  Sol- 
houg was  played  in  C'hristiania.  There  also  it 
was  received  by  the  public  with  much  appro- 
183 


IS*  PREFACE. 

bation,  and  the  day  after  the  first  performance 
Bjornson  wrote  a  friendly,  youthfully  ardent 
article  on  it  in  the  Morgenhlad.  It  was  not  a 
notice  or  criticism  proper,  but  rather  a  free, 
fanciful  improvisation  on  the  play  and  the  per- 
formance. 

On  this,  however,  followed  the  real  criticism, 
written  by  the  real  critics. 

How  did  a  man  in  the  Christiania  of  those 
days — by  which  I  mean  the  years  between  1850 
and  1860,  or  thereabouts — become  a  real  literary, 
and  in  particular  dramatic,  critic? 

As  a  rule,  the  process  was  as  follows:  After 
some  preparatory  exercises  in  the  columns  of 
the  Samfundshlad,  and  after  having  frequently 
listened  to  the  discussions  which  went  on  in  Tre- 
schow's  cafe  or  at  "  Ingebret's  "  after  the  play, 
the  future  critic  betook  himself  to  Johan  Dahl's 
bookshop  and  ordered  from  Copenhagen  a  copy 
of  J.  L.  Heiberg's  Prose  Works,  among  which 
was  to  be  found — so  he  had  heard  it  said — an 
essay  entitled  On  the  Vaudeville.  This  essay 
was  in  due  course  read,  ruminated  on,  and 
possibly  to  a  certain  extent  understood.  From 
Heiberg's  writings  the  young  man,  moreover, 
learned  of  a  controversy  which  that  author  had 
carried  on  in  his  day  with  Professor  Oehlen- 
schlager  and  with  the  Soro  poet,  Hauch.  And 
he  was  simultaneously  made  aware  that  J.  L. 
Baggesen  (the  author  of  Letters  from  the  Dead) 
had  at  a  still  earlier  period  made  a  similar  attack 
on  the  great  author  who  wrote  both  Axel  and 
Valhorg  and  Hakon  Jarl. 

A  quantity  of  other  information  useful  to  a 


PREFACE.  18.*> 


critic  waa  to  be  extracted  from  these  writings. 
From  them  one  learned,  for  instance,  that  taste 
obliged  a  good  critic  to  be  scandalised  by  a 
hiatus.  Did  the  young  critical  Jeronimuses  of 
Christiania  encounter  such  a  monstrosity  in  any 
new  verse,  they  were  as  certain  as  their  proto- 
type in  Holberg  to  shout  their  "  Hoity-toity !  the 
world  will  not  last  till  Easter !  " 

The  origin  of  another  peculiar  characteristic 
of  the  criticism  then  prevalent  in  the  Nor- 
wegian capital  was  long  a  puzzle  to  me.  Eveiy 
time  a  new  author  published  a  book  or  had  a 
little  play  acted,  our  critics  were  in  the  habit 
of  flying  into  an  ungovernable  passion  and  be- 
having as  if  the  publication  of  the  book  or  the 
performance  of  the  play  were  a  mortal  insult 
to  themselves  and  the  newspapers  in  which  they 
wrote.  As  already  remarked,  I  puzzled  long 
over  this  peculiarity.  At  last  I  got  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  matter.  Whilst  reading  the  Danish 
Monthly  Journal  of  Literature  I  was  struck  by 
the  fact  that  old  State-Councillor  Molbech  was 
invariably  seized  with  a  fit  of  rage  when  a 
young  author  published  a  book  or  had  a  play 
acted  in  Copenliagen. 

Thus,  or  in  a  manner  closely  resembling  this, 
had  the  tribunal  qualified  itself,  which  now,  in 
the  daily  pi'ess,  summoned  The  Feast  at  Solhoug 
to  the  bar  of  criticism  in  Christiania.  It  was 
principally  composed  of  young  men  who,  as  re- 
gards criticism,  lived  upon  loans  from  various 
quarters.  Their  critical  thoughts  had  long  ago 
been  thought  and  expressed  by  others;  their 
opinions  had  long  ere  now  been  formulated  else- 


186 


PREFACE. 


where.  Their  aesthetic  principles  were  bor- 
rowed; their  critical  method  was  borrowed;  the 
polemical  tactics  they  employed  were  borrowed 
in  every  particular,  great  and  small.  Their  very 
frame  of  mind  was  borrowed.  Borrowing,  bor- 
rowing, here,  there,  and  everywhere !  The  single 
original  thing  about  them  was  that  they  invari- 
ably made  a  wrong  and  unseasonable  application 
of  their  borrowings. 

It  can  surprise  no  one  that  this  body,  the 
members  of  which,  as  critics,  supported  them- 
selves by  borrowing,  should  have  presupposed 
similar  action  on  my  part,  as  author.  Two,  pos- 
sibly more  than  two,  of  the  newspapers  promptly 
discovered  that  I  had  borrowed  this,  that,  and 
the  other  thing  from  Henrik  Hertz's  play,  8 vend 
Dyring^s  House. 

This  is  a  baseless  and  indefensible  critical 
assertion.  It  is  evidently  to  be  ascribed  to  the 
fact  that  the  metre  of  the  ancient  ballads  is  em- 
ployed in  both  plays.  But  my  tone  is  quite  dif- 
ferent from  Hertz's;  the  language  of  my  play 
has  a  different  ring;  a  light  summer  breeze  plays 
over  the  rhythm  of  my  verse;  over  that  of 
Hertz's  brood  the  storms  of  autumn. 

Nor,  as  regards  the  characters,  the  action,  and 
the  contents  of  the  plays  generally,  is  there  any 
other  or  any  greater  resemblance  between  them 
than  that  which  is  a  natural  consequence  of  the 
derivation  of  the  subjects  of  both  from  the  nar- 
row circle  of  ideas  in  which  the  ancient  ballads 
move. 

It  might  be  maintained  with  quite  as  much, 
or  even  more,  reason  that  Hertz   in  his   Svend 


PREFACE.  187 


Dyring^s  House  had  borrowed,  and  that  to  no  in- 
considerable extent,  from  Heinrich  von  Kleist's 
Kdthchen  von  Heilhronn,  a  play  written  at  the 
beginning  of  this  century.  Kathchen's  relation 
to  Count  Wetterstrahl  is  in  all  essentials  the 
same  as  Eagnhild's  to  the  knight,  Stig  Hvide. 
Like  Eagnhild,  Kathchen  is  compelled  by  a 
mysterious,  inexplicable  power  to  follow  the  man 
she  loves  wherever  he  goes,  to  steal  secretly 
after  him,  to  lay  herself  down  to  sleep  near  him, 
to  come  back  to  him,  as  by  some  innate  compul- 
sion, however  often  she  may  be  driven  away. 
And  other  instances  of  supernatural  interference 
are  to  be  met  with  both  in  Kleist's  and  in  Hertz's 
play. 

But  does  any  one  doubt  that  it  would  be  pos- 
sible, with  a  little  good-  or  a  little  ill-will,  to 
discover  among  still  older  dramatic  literature  a 
play  from  which  it  could  be  maintained  that 
Kleist  had  borrowed  here  and  there  in  his 
Kathchen  von  Heilhronn  ?  I,  for  my  part,  do 
not  doubt  it.  But  such  suggestions  of  indebted- 
ness are  futile.  What  makes  a  work  of  art  the 
spiritual  property  of  its  creator  is  the  fact  that 
he  has  imprinted  on  it  the  stamp  of  his  own 
personality.  Therefore  I  hold  that,  in  spite  of 
the  above-mentioned  points  of  resemblance, 
Svend  Dyring^s  House  is  as  incontestably  and 
entirely  an  original  work  by  Henrik  Hertz  as 
Kathchen  von  Heilhronn  is  an  original  work  by 
Heinrich  von  Kleist. 

I  advance  the  same  claim  on  my  own  be- 
half as  regards  The  Feast  at  Solhoug,  and  I 
trust    that,    for    the    future,    each    of    the    three 


188  PREFACE, 


namesakes^  will  be  permitted  to  keep,  in  its  en- 
tirety, what  rightfully  belongs  to  him. 

In  writing  of  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  in  con- 
nection with  Svend  Dyring^s  House,  George 
Brandes  expresses  the  opinion,  not  that  the 
former  play  is  founded  upon  any  idea  borrowed 
from  the  latter,  but  that  it  has  been  written 
under  an  influence  exercised  by  the  older  author 
upon  the  younger.  Brandes  invariably  criti- 
cises my  work  in  such  a  friendly  spirit  that  I 
have  all  reason  to  be  obliged  to  him  for  this 
suggestion,  as  for  so  much  else. 

Nevertheless  I  must  maintain  that  he,  too, 
is  in  this  instance  mistaken.  I  have  never 
specially  admired  Henrik  Hertz  as  a  dramatist. 
Hence  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  believe  that  he 
should,  unknown  to  myself,  have  been  able  to 
exercise  any  influence  on  my  dramatic  produc- 
tion. 

As  regards  this  point  and  the  matter  in  gen- 
eral, I  might  confine  myself  to  referring  those 
interested  to  the  writings  of  Dr.  Valfrid  Vase- 
nius,  lecturer  on  ^Esthetics  at  the  University  of 
Helsingfors.  In  the  thesis  which  gained  him  his 
degree  of  Doctor  of  Philosophy,  Henrik  Ibsen's 
Dramatic  Poetry  in  its  First  Stage  (1879),  and 
also  in  Henrik  Ibsen:  The  Portrait  of  a  Skald 
(Jos.  Seligman  &  Co.,  Stockholm,  1882),  Va- 
senius  states  and  supports  his  views  on  the  siib- 
ject  of  the  play  at  present  in  question,  supple- 
menting them  in  the  latter  work  by  what  I  told 
him,  very  briefly,  when  we  were  together  at 
Munich  three  years  ago. 

•  Heinrich  von  Kleist,  Henrik  Hertz,  Henrik  Ibsen. 


PREFACE.  189 


But,  to  prevent  all  misconception,  I  will  now 
myself  give  a  short  account  of  the  origin  of 
The  Feast  at  Solhoug. 

I  began  this  Preface  with  the  statement  that 
The  Feast  at  Solhoug  was  written  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1855. 

In  1854  I  had  written  Lady  Inger  of  Ostrdt. 
This  was  a  task  which  had  obliged  me  to  devote 
much  attention  to  the  literature  and  history  of 
Norway  during  the  Middle  Ages,  especially  the 
latter  part  of  that  period.  I  did  my  utmost  to 
familiarise  myself  with  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms, with  the  emotions,  thoughts,  and  lan- 
guage, of  the  men  of  those  days. 

The  period,  however,  is  not  one  over  which, 
the  student  is  tempted  to  linger,  nor  does  it  pre- 
sent much  material  suitable  for  dramatic  treat- 
ment. 

Consequently  I  soon  deserted  it  for  the  Saga 
period.  But  the  Sagas  of  the  Kings,  and  in 
general  the  more  strictly  historical  traditions  of 
that  far-oif  age,  did  not  attract  me  greatly;  at 
that  time  I  was  unable  to  put  the  quarrels  be- 
tween kings  and  chieftains,  parties  and  clans, 
to  any  dramatic  purpose.  This  was  to  happen 
later. 

In  the  Icelandic  "  family "  Sagas,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  found  in  abundance  what  I  re- 
quired in  the  shape  of  human  garb  for  the 
moods,  conceptions,  and  thoughts  which  at  that 
time  occupied  me,  or  were,  at  least,  more  or  less 
distinctly  i)resent  in  my  mind.  With  these  Old- 
Norse  contributions  to  the  personal  history  of 
our  Saga  period  I  had  had  no  previous  acquaint- 


190  PREFACE. 


ance;  I  had  hardly  so  much  as  heard  them 
named.  But  now  N.  M.  Petersen's  excellent 
translation — excellent,  at  least,  as  far  as  the 
style  is  concerned — fell  into  my  hands.  In  the 
pages  of  these  family  chronicles,  with  their  va- 
riety of  scenes  and  of  relations  between  man 
and  man,  between  woman  and  woman,  in  short, 
between  human  being  and  human  being,  there 
met  me  a  personal,  eventful,  really  living  life; 
and  as  the  result  of  my  intercourse  with  all 
these  distinctly  individual  men  and  women, 
there  presented  themselves  to  my  mind's  eye  the 
first  rough,  indistinct  outlines  of  The  Vikings 
at  Ilelgeland. 

How  far  the  details  of  that  drama  then  took 
shape,  I  am  no  longer  able  to  say.  But  I  re- 
member perfectly  that  the  two  figures  of  which 
I  first  caught  sight  were  the  two  women  who  in 
course  of  time  became  Ilitirdis  and  Dagny. 
There  was  to  be  a  great  banquet  in  the  play, 
with  passion-rousing,  fateful  quarrels  during 
its  course.  Of  other  characters  and  passions, 
and  situations  produced  by  these,  I  meant  to 
include  whatever  seemed  to  me  most  typical  of 
the  life  which  the  Sagas  reveal.  In  short,  it 
was  my  intention  to  reproduce  dramatically  ex- 
actly what  the  Saga  of  the  Volsungs  gives  in 
epic  form. 

I  made  no  complete,  connected  plan  at  that 
time;  but  it  was  evident  to  me  that  such  a  drama 
was  to  be  my  first  undertaking. 

Various  obstacles  intervened.  Most  of  them 
were  of  a  personal  nature,  and  these  were  prob- 
ably the  most  decisive;  but  it  undoubtedly  had 


PREFACE.  191 

its  significance  that  I  happened  just  at  this  time 
to  make  a  careful  study  of  Landstad's  collection 
of  Norwegian  ballads,  published  two  years  pre- 
viously. My  mood  of  the  moment  was  more  in 
haiTQony  with  the  literary  romanticism  of  the 
Middle  Ages  than  with  the  deeds  of  the  Sagas, 
with  poetical  than  with  prose  composition,  with 
the  word-melody  of  the  ballad  than  with  the 
characterisation  of  the  Saga. 

Thus  it  happened  that  the  fermenting,  form- 
less design  for  the  tragedy,  The  Vikings  at  Hel- 
geland,  transformed  itself  temporarily  into  the 
lyric  drama,  The  Feast  at  Solhoug. 

The  two  female  characters,  the  foster  sisters 
Hiordis  and  Dagny,  of  the  projected  tragedy, 
became  the  sisters  Margit  and  Signe  of  the 
completed  lyric  draraa.  The  derivation  of  the 
latter  pair  from  the  two  women  of  the  Saga  at 
once  becomes  apparent  when  attention  is  drawn 
to  it.  The  relationship  is  unmistakable.  The 
tragic  hero,  so  far  only  vaguely  outlined,  Si- 
gurd, the  far-travelled  Viking,  the  welcome  guest 
at  the  courts  of  kings,  became  the  knight  and 
minstrel,  Gudmund  Alfson,  who  has  likewise 
been  long  absent  in  foreign  lands,  and  has  lived 
in  the  king's  household.  His  attitude  towards 
the  two  sisters  was  changed,  to  bring  it  into  ac- 
cordance with  the  change  in  time  and  circum- 
stances ;  but  the  position  of  both  sisters  to  him 
remained  practically  the  same  as  that  in  the  pro- 
jected and  afterwards  completed  tragedy.  The 
fateful  banquet,  the  presentation  of  which  had 
seemed  to  me  of  the  first  importance  in  my 
original   plan,   became   in   the  drama   the   scene 


192  PREFACE. 


upon  which  its  personages  made  their  appear- 
ance; it  became  the  background  against  which 
the  action  stood  out,  and  communicated  to  the 
picture  as  a  whole  the  general  tone  at  which  I 
aimed.  The  ending  of  the  play  was,  undoubt- 
edly, softened  and  subdued  into  harmony  with 
its  character  as  drama,  not  tragedy;  but  ortho- 
dox aestheticians  may  still,  perhaps,  find  it  dis- 
putable whether,  in  this  ending,  a  touch  of  pure 
tragedy  has  not  been  left  behind,  to  testify  to 
the  origin  of  the  drama. 

Upon  this  subject,  however,  I  shall  not  enter 
further  at  present.  My  object  has  simply  been 
to  maintain  and  prove  that  the  play  under  con- 
sideration, like  all  my  other  dramatic  works,  is 
an  inevitable  outcome  of  the  tenor  of  my  life 
at  a  certain  period.  It  had  its  origin  within, 
and  was  not  the  result  of  any  outward  impres- 
sion or  influence. 

This,  and  no  other,  is  the  true  account  of  the 
genesis  of  The  Feast  at  Solhoug. 

Henrik  Ibsen» 

Rome,  April,  1883. 


THE    FEAST    AT    SOLHOUG 


CHARACTERS 

Bengt  Gauteson,  Master  of  Solhoug. 

Margit,  his  infe. 

SiGNE,  her  sister. 

GuDMUND  Alfson,  their  Icinsman. 

Knut  Gesling,  the  King's  sherijf. 

Erik  of  Hegge,  his  friend. 

A  House-carl. 

Another  IIouse-cakl. 

The  King's  Envoy. 

An  Old  Man. 

A  Maiden. 

Guests,  both  Men  and  Ladies. 

Men  of  Knut  Gesling's  Train. 

Serving-Men  and  Maidens  at  Solhoug. 


The  action  passes  at  Solhoug  in  the  Fourteenth  Century. 

Pronunciation  of  Names:  Gudmund  =  Goodmoond. 
The  g  in  "Margit"  and  in  "Gesling"  is  hard,  as  in  "go," 
or,  in  "Gesling,"  it  may  be  pronounced  as  y — "  Yesling." 
The  first  o  in  "Solhoug"  ought  to  have  the  sound  of  a  very 
long  "oo." 


THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG 

PLAY  IN  THREE  ACTS 


ACT  FIRST 


A  stately  room,  with  doors  in  the  back  and  to 
both  sides.  In  front,  on  the  right,  a  bay 
rvindow  with  small  round  panes,  set  in  lead, 
and  near  the  window  a  table,  on  which  is  a 
quantity  of  feminine  ornaments.  Along  the 
left  wall,  a  longer  table  with  silver  goblets, 
beakers  and  drinking-horns.  The  door  in 
the  back  leads  out  to  a  passage-way,^ 
through  which  can  be  seen  a  spacious  fiord- 
landscape. 

Bengt  Gauteson,  Margit,  Knut  Gesling  and 
Erik  of  Hegge  are  seated  around  the  table 
on  the  left.  In  the  background  are  Knut's 
followers,  some  seated,  some  standing;  one 
or  two  flagons  of  ale  are  haiided  round 
among  them.  Far  off  are  heard  church 
bells,  ringing  to  Mass. 

Erik. 
\Rising   at   the   table.^      In   one   word,    now, 
what  answer  have  you  to  make  to  my  wooing  on 
Knut  Gesling's  behalf? 

'  This  no  doubt  means  a  sort  of  arcaded  veranda  running 
dong  the  outer  wall  of  the  house. 
195 


196  THE     FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.        [aCTI. 


Bengt. 

[Glancing  tineasily  towards  his  wife.]  Well, 
I — to  me  it  seems —  [As  she  remains  silent.] 
H'm,  Mar  git,  let  us  first  hear  your  thought  in 
the  matter. 

Mar  git. 

[Rising.]  Sir  Knut  Gesling,  I  have  long 
known  all  that  Erik  of  Hegge  has  told  of  you. 
I  know  full  well  that  you  come  of  a  lordly 
house;  you  are  rich  in  gold  and  gear,  and  you 
stand  in  high  favour  with  our  royal  master. 

Bengt. 
[To  Knut.]     In  high  favour — so  say  I  too. 

Margit. 

And  doubtless  my  sister  could  choose  her  no 
Joaghtier  mate — 

Bengt. 

None  doughtier;  that  is  what  I  say  too. 

Margit. 

— it  so  be  that  you  can  win  her  to  think 
kindly  of  you. 

Bengt. 

[Auiciously,  and  half  aside.]  Nay — nay,  my 
dear  wife — 

Knut. 

[Springing  wp.]  Stands  it  so.  Dame  ISIargit! 
You  think  that  vour  sister — 


ACT    I.]        THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.  197 


Bengt. 
[Seeking  to  calm  him.]      Nay,  nay,  Knut  Ges- 
ling !      Have   patience,  now.      You  must  under- 
stand us  aright. 

Margit. 
There  is  naught  in  my  words  to  wound  you. 
My  sister  knows  you  only  by  the  songs  that  are 
made  about  you — and  these  songs  soimd  but  ill 
in  gentle  ears. 

No  peaceful  home  is  your  father's  house. 

With  your  lawless,  reckless  crew, 
Day  out,  day  in,  must  you  hold  carouse — 

God  help  her  who  mates  with  you. 
God  help  the  maiden  you  lure  or  buy 

With  gold  and  with  forests  green — 
Soon  will  her  sore  heart  long  to  lie 

Still  in  the  grave,  I  ween. 

Erik. 
Aye,   aye — true   enough — Knut   Gesling  lives 
not  overpeaceably.     But  there  will  soon  come  a 
change  in  that,  when  he  gets  him  a  wife  in  his 
hall. 

Knut. 
And  this  I  would  have  you  mark,  Dame  Mar- 
git: it  may  be  a  week  since,  I  was  at  a  feast  at 
Hegge,  at  Erik's  bidding,  whom  here  you  see. 
The  ale  was  strong;  and  as  the  evening  wore  on 
I  vowed  a  vow  that  Signe,  your  fair  sister, 
should  be  my  wife,  and  that  before  the  year  was 
out.  Never  shall  it  be  said  of  Knut  Gesling 
that  he  brake  any  vow.     You  can  see,  then,  that 


198  THE      FEAST     AT     S  O  L  H  O  U  G.        [aCT    I. 


you  must  e'en  choose  me  for  your  sister's  hus- 
band— be  it  with  your  will  or  against  it. 

Margit. 

Ere  that  may  be,  I  must  tell  you  plain, 
You  must  rid  yourself  of  your  ravening  train. 
You  must  scour  no  longer  with  yell  and  shout 
O'er  the  country-side  in  a  galloping  rout ; 
You  must  still  the  shudder  that  spreads  around 
When  Knut  Gesling  is  to  a  bride-ale  bound. 
Courteous   must  your   mien   be  when   a-feasting 

you  ride; 
Let  your  battle-axe  hang  at  home  at  the  chimney- 
side — 
It  ever  sits  loose  in  your  hand,  well  you  know, 
When  the  mead  has  gone  round  and  your  brain 

is  aglow. 
From  no  man  his  rightful  gear  shall  you  wrest, 
You  shall  harm  no  harmless  maiden ; 
You  shall  send  to  no  man  the  shameless  best 
That  wlien  his  path  crosses  yours,  he  were  best 
Come  with  his  grave-clothes  laden. 
And  if  you  will  so  bear  you  till  the  year  be  past, 
You  may  win  my  sister  for  your  bride  at  last. 

Knut. 

[With  suppressed  rage.]  You  know  how  to 
order  your  words  cunningly,  Dame  Margit. 
Truly,  you  should  have  been  a  priest,  and  not 
your  husband's  wife. 

Bengt. 
Oh,  for  that  matter,  I  too  could — 


ACT    I.]        THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.  199 


Knut. 

[Paying  no  heed  to  him.]  But  I  would  have 
you  take  note  that  had  a  sword-bearing  man 
spoken  to  me  in  such  wise — 

Bengt, 

Nay,  but  listen,  Knut  Gesling — you  must  un- 
derstand us ! 

Knut. 

[As  before.]  Well,  briefly,  he  should  have 
learnt  that  the  axe  sits  loose  in  my  hand,  as  you 
said  but  now. 

Bengt. 

[Softly.]  There  we  have  it!  Margit,  Mar- 
git,  this  will  never  end  well. 

Margit. 

[To  Knut.]  You  asked  for  a  forthright  an- 
swer, and  that  I  have  given  you. 

Knut. 

Well,  well;  I  will  not  reckon  too  closely  with 
you.  Dame  Margit.  You  liave  more  wit  than  all 
the  rest  of  us  together.  Here  is  my  hand; — it 
may  be  tliere  was  somewhat  of  reason  in  the 
keen-edged  words  you  spoke  to  me. 

Margit. 

This  I  like  well ;  now  are  you  already  on  the 
right  way  to  amendment.  Yet  one  word  more 
— to-day  we  hold  a  feast  at  Solhoug. 


200  THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.        [aCT 


Knut. 
A  feast? 

Bengt. 
Yes,  Knut  Gesling:  you  must  know  that  it  is 
our  wedding-day ;  this  day  three  years  ago  made 
me  Dame  Margit's  husband. 

Margit. 
[Impatiently,  interrupting.]  As  I  said,  we 
hold  a  feast  to-day.  When  Mass  is  over,  and 
your  other  business  done,  I  would  have  you  ride 
hither  again,  and  join  in  the  banquet.  Then 
you  can  learn  to  know  my  sister. 

Knut. 
So  be  it.   Dame   Margit;    I   tliank  you.      Yet 
'twas  not  to  go  to  Mass  that  I  rode  hither  this 
morning.     Your  kinsman,  Gudmund  Alfson,  was 
the  cause  of  my  coming. 

Margit. 
[Starts.]     He!     My  kinsman?     Where  would 
you  seek  him? 

Knut. 
His  homestead  lies   behind  the  headland,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  fiord. 

Margit. 
But  he  himself  is  far  away. 

Erik. 
Be  not  so  sure;  he  may  be  nearer  than  you 
think. 


ACT    I.]        THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.  201 


Knut. 
[Whispers.]      Hold  your  peace! 

Margit. 
Nearer?     What  mean  you? 

Knut. 
Have  you  not  heard,  then,  tliat  Gudmund  Alf- 
son  has  come  back  to  Norway?     He  came  with 
the    Chancellor   Audun   of    Hegranes,   who   was 
sent  to  France  to  bring  home  our  new  Queen. 

jNIargit. 
True  enough ;  hut  in  these  very  days  the  King 
holds  his  wedding-feast  in  full  state  at  Bergen, 
and  there  is  Gudmund  Alfson  a  guest. 

Bengt. 
And  there  could  we  too  have  been  guests  had 
my  wife  so  willed  it. 

Erik. 
[Aside  to  Knut.]     Then  Dame  Margit  knows 
not  that — .? 

Knut. 
[Aside.]      So   it  would   seem;   but  keep   your 
counsel.      [Aloud.]      Well,  well,  Dame   Margit, 
I  must  go  my  way  none  the  loss,  and  see  what 
may  betide.     At  nightfall  I  will  be  here  again 

Mabg^"?! 
And  then   you  must  show  whether  you  have 
powe'  to  bridle  your  unruly  spirit. 


202  THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.        [aCTI. 


Bengt. 
Aye,  mark  you  that. 

Margit. 
You  must  lay  no  hand  on  your  axe — hear  you, 
Knut  Gesling? 

Bengt. 
Neitl)er  on  your  axe,  nor  on  your  knife,  nor 
on  any  other  weapon  whatsoever. 

Margit. 
For  then  can  you  never  hope  to  be  one  of  our 
kindred. 

Bengt. 
Nay,  that  is  our  firm  resolve. 

Knut. 
[To  Margit.]      Have  no  fear. 

Bengt. 
And  what  we  have  firmly  resolved  stands  fast. 

Knut. 
That  I  like  well,  Sir  Bengt  Gauteson.  I,  too, 
say  the  same;  and  I  have  pledged  myself  at  the 
feast-board  to  wed  your  kinswoman.  You  may 
be  sure  that  my  pledge,  too,  will  stand  fast. — 
God's  peace  till  to-night ! 

[He  and  Erik,  with  their  men,  go  out  at 

the  bach. 
[Bengt  accompanies  them  to  the  door.     The 

sound  of  the  bells  has  in  the  meantime 

ceased. 


ACT    I.]        THE     FEAST      AT     SOLHOUG.  203 


Bengt. 
[Returning.]        ISIethought     he     seemed     to 
threaten  us  as  he  departed. 

Margit. 
[Absently.]     Aye,  so  it  seemed. 

Bengt. 
Knut  Gesling  is  an  ill  man  to  fall  out  with. 
And,  when  I  bethink  me,  we  gave  him  over 
many  hard  words.  But  come,  let  us  not  brood 
over  that.  To-day  we  must  be  merry,  Margit ! 
— as  I  trow  we  have  both  good  reason  to  be. 

Margit. 
[With  a  weary  smile.]     Aye,  surely,  surely. 

Bengt. 
Tis  true  I  was  no  mere  stripling  when  I 
courted  you.  But  well  I  wot  I  was  the  richest 
man  for  many  and  many  a  mile.  You  were  a 
fair  maiden,  and  nobly  born;  but  your  dowry 
would  have  tempted  no  wooer. 

Margit. 
[To  herself.]     Yet  was  I  then  so  rich. 

Bengt. 
What  said  you,  my  wife? 

Margit. 
Oh,  nothing,  nothing.     [Crosses  to  the  right.] 
I  will  deck  me  with  pearls   and  rings.      Is  not 
to-night  a  time  of  rejoicing  for  me.'' 


204  THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUQ.        [aCT 


Bengt. 
I  am  fain  to  hear  you  say  it.  Let  me  see  that 
you  deck  you  in  your  best  attire,  that  our  guests 
may  say:  Happy  she  who  mated  with  Bengt 
Gauteson. — But  now  must  I  to  the  larder;  there 
are  many  things  to-day  that  must  not  be  over- 
looked. [He  goes  out  to  the  left. 

Margit. 
\Sinhs  down  on  a  chair  by  tlie  table  on  the 
right. 
'Twas  well  he  departed.     While  here  he  remains 
Meseems  the  blood  freezes  within  my  veins; 
Meseems  that  a  crushing  might  and  cold 
My  heart  in  its  clutches  doth  still  enfold. 

[With  tears  she  cannot  repress. 
He  is  my  husband!     I   am  his  wife! 
How  long,  how  long  lasts  a  woman's  life? 
Sixty  years,  mayhap — God  pity  me 
Who  am  not  yet  full  twenty-three ! 

[More  calmly,  after  a  short  silence. 
Hard,  so  long  in  a  gilded  cage  to  pine; 
Hard  a  hopeless  prisoner's  lot — and  mine. 

[Absently   fingering  the   ornaments   on   the 
table,  and  beginning  to  put  them  on. 
With  rings,  and  with  jewels,  and  all  of  my  best 
By  his  order  myself  I  am  decking — 
But  oh,  if  to-day  were  my  burial-feast, 
'Twere  little  that  I'd  be  recking. 

[Breahing  off. 
But  if  thus  I  brood  I  must  needs  despair ; 
I  know  a  song  that  can  lighten  care. 

[She  sings. 


ACT    I.]        THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.  205 


The  Hill-King  to  the  se?i  did  ride; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  daj's  and  dreary — 
To  woo  a  maiden  to'  be  his  bride. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

The  Hill-King  rode  to  Sir  H;°;kon's  hold; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
Little  Kirsten  sat  combing  her  locks  of  gold. 

— I  am  Avaiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

The  Hill-King  wedded  the  maiden  fair; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
A  silvern  girdle  she  ever  must  wear. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

The  Hill-King  wedded  the  lily-wand, 
— Oh,  sad  arc  my  days  and  dreary — 

With  fifteen  gold  rings  on  either  hand. 
— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

Three   summers   passed,   and  there   passed   full 
five; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
In  the  hill  little  Kirsten  was  buried  alive. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

Five  summers  passed,  and  there  passed  full  nine; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  drcarj' — 
Little  Kirsten  ne'er  saw  the  glad  sunshine. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

In   the    dale   there    are    flowers    and    the    birds' 
blithe  song; 

— Oh.  sad  are  ray  days  and  dreary — 
In  the  hill  there  is  gold  and  the  niglit  is  long 

- — I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 


206  THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.        [aCTI. 

[She  rises  and  crosses  the  room. 

How  oft  in  the  gloaming  would  Gudmund  sing 

This  song  in  my  father's  hall. 

There   was    somewhat   in   it- — some   strange,   sad 
thing 

That  took  my  heart  in  thrall ; 

Though  I  scarce  understood,  I  could  ne'er  for- 
get— 

And  the  words  and  the  thoughts  they  haunt  me 
yet. 

[Stops  horror-struck. 

Rings  of  red  gold !     And  a  belt  beside — ! 
'Twas    with    gold    the    Hill-King    wedded    his 
bride ! 

[In  despair;  sinks  down  on  a  bench  beside 
the  table  on  the  left. 

Woe  !    Woe  !     I  myself  am  the  Hill-King's  wife  ! 
And   there   cometh   none   to    free   me    from   the 
prison  of  my  life. 

[SiGNE,  radiant  with  gladness,  comes  run- 
ning in  from  the  back. 

SiGNE. 

[Calling.]      Margit,  Margit, — he  is  coming! 

Margit. 
[Starting  up.]     Coming?     Who  is  coming.'' 

SiGNE. 

Gudmund,  our  kinsman ! 


act  i.]      the    feast    at    s  o  l  h  o  u  g.         20? 

Margit. 
Gudmund    Alfson !       Here !       How    can    you 
think — ? 

SiGNE. 

Oh^  I  am  sure  of  it. 

Margit. 
[Crosses  to  the  right.]      Gudmund  Alfson  is 
at   the   wedding- feast   in   the    King's   hall;    you 
know  that  as  well  as  I. 

SiGNE. 

Maybe ;  but  none  the  less  I  am  sure  it  was  he. 

Margit. 
Have  you  seen  him? 

SiGNE. 

Oh,  no,  no;  but  I  must  tell  you — 

Margit. 
Yes,  haste  you — tell  on ! 

SiGNE. 

'Twas  early  morn,  and  the  church  bells  rang. 

To  Mass  I  was  fain  to  ride; 

The  birds  in  the  willows  twittered  and  sang, 

In  the  birch-groves  far  and  wide. 

All  earth  was  glad  in  the  clear,  sweet  day; 

And  from  church  it  had  well-nigh  stayed  me; 

For  still,  as  I  rode  down  tlie  shady  way. 

Each  rosebud  beguiled  and  delayed  me. 

Silcntlv  into  the  church  I  stole; 


208  THE      FEAST      AT      S  O  L  H  O  U  G.        [aCT    I. 


The  priest  at  the  altar  was  bending; 
He  chanted  and  read,  and  with  awe  in  their  soul, 
The  folk  to  God's  word  were  attending. 
Then  a  voice  rang  out  o'er  the  fiord  so  blue; 
And  the  carven  angels,  the  whole  church  through, 
Turned  round,  methought,  to  listen  thereto. 

Margit. 
O  Signe,  say  on !     Tell  me  all,  tell  me  all ! 

SiGNE. 

'Twas  as  though  a  strange,  irresistible  call 
Summoned  me  forth  from  the  worshipping  flock, 
Ov^er  hill  and  dale,  over  mead  and  rock. 
'Mid  the  silver  birches  I  listening  trod. 
Moving  as  though  in  a  dream ; 
Behind  me  stood  empty  the  house  of  God; 
Priest    and    people    were    lured    by    the    magic, 

'twould  seem, 
Of  the  tones  that  still  tlirougli  the  air  did  stream. 
No  sound  they  made;  they  were  quiet  as  death; 
To  hearken  the  song-birds  held  their  breath. 
The    lark    dropped    earthward,    the    cuckoo    was 

still, 
As  the  voice  re-echoed  from  hill  to  hill. 

Margit. 
Go  on, 

Signe. 
They  crossed  themselves,  women  and  men ; 
[Pressirig  her  hands  to  her  breast. 
But  strange  thoughts  arose  within  me  then ; 


ACT    I.]        THK      FEAST     AT      SOLHOUG.  209 


For  the  heavenly  song  familiar  grew: 
Gudmund  oft  sang  it  to  me  and  you — 
Ofttimes  has  Gudmvmd  carolled  it, 
And  all  he  e'er  sang  in  my  heart  is  writ. 

Margit. 
And  you  think  that  it  may  be — ? 

SiGNE. 

I  know  it  is  he! 
I  know  it !     I  know  it !     You  soon  shall  see  ! 

[Laughing. 
From  far-ofF  lands,  at  the  last,  in  the  end. 
Each  song-bird  homewards  his  flight  doth  bend ! 
I  am  so  happy — though  why  I  scarce  know — ! 
Margit,  what  say  you?     I'll  quickly  go 
And  take  down  his  harp,  that  has  hung  so  long 
In  there  on  the  wall  that  'tis  rusted  quite; 
Its  golden  strings  I  will  polish  bright. 
And  tune  them  to  ring  and  to  sing  with  his  song. 

Margit. 

[Absently.] 
Do  as  you  will — 

SiGNE. 

[Reproachfully.  ] 

Nay,  this  is  not  right. 

[Embracing  her. 

But  when  Gudmund  comes  will  your  heart  grow 

light — 
Light,  as  when  I  was  a  child,  again. 


210  THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG,        [aCTI. 


Mar  GIT. 

[To  herself.] 


So    much    has    changed — ah^    so    much  ! — since 
then — 

SiGNE. 

Margit,  you  shall  be  happy  and  gay! 

Have  you  not  serving-maids  many,  and  thralls? 

Costly    robes    hang    in    rows    on    your    chamber 

walls ; 
How  rich  you  are,  none  can  say. 
By  day  you  can  ride  in  the  forest  deep. 
Chasing  the  hart  and  the  liind; 
By  night  in  a  lordly  bower  you  can  sleep. 
On  pillows  of  silk  reclined. 

Margit. 
[LooJcing  towards  the  window.] 
And  he  comes  to  Solhoug!     He,  as  a  guest! 

SiGNE. 

What  say  you? 

Margit. 

[Turning.] 

Naught. — Deck  you  out  in  your  best. 
That  fortune  which  seemeth  to  you  so  bright 
May  await  yourself. 

SiGNE. 

Margit,  say  what  you  mean ! 


act  i.]      the    feast    at    solhoug.         211 

Margit. 
[Stroking  her  hair.] 

I    mean — nay,    no    more!      'Twill    shortly    be 

seen — ; 
I  mean — should  a  wooer  ride  hither  to-night — ? 

SiGNE. 

A  wooer?     For  whom? 

Margit. 

For  you. 

Signe. 
[Laughing.] 

For  me? 
That  he'd  ta'en   the  wrong  road   full  soon   he 
would  see. 

Margit. 
What  would  you  say  if  a  valiant  knight 
Begged  for  your  hand? 

SiGNE. 

That  my  heart  was  too  light 
To  think  upon  suitors  or  choose  a  mate. 

Margit. 
But  if  he  were  mighty,  and  rich,  and  great? 

Sign  if. 
Oh,  were  he  a  king,  did  his  palace  liold 
Stores  of  rich  garments  and  ruddy  gold. 


212  THE      FEAST      AT      S  O  L  H  O  U  G.         [ACT    I. 

'Twould  ne'er  set  my  heart  desiring. 

With  you  I  am  rich  enough  here,  meseems, 

With    summer    and    sun    and    the    murmuring 

streams, 
And  the  birds  in  the  branches  quiring. 
Dear  sister  mine — here  shall  my  dwelling  be; 
And  to  give  any  wooer-  my  hand  in  fee. 
For  that  I  am  too  busy,  and  my  heart  too  full 

of  glee ! 

[SiGNE  runs  out  to  the  left,  singing. 

Margit. 
[After  a  pause.]  Gudmund  Alfson  coming 
hither  !  Hither — to  Solhoug  ?  No,  no,  it  cannot 
be. — Signe  heard  him  singing,  she  said !  When 
I  have  heard  the  pine-trees  moaning  in  the  for- 
est afar,  when  I  have  heard  the  waterfall  thun- 
der and  the  birds  pipe  their  lure  in  the  tree- 
tops,  it  has  many  a  time  seemed  to  me  as  though, 
through  it  all,  the  sound  of  Gudmund's  songs 
came  blended.  And  yet  he  was  far  from  here. 
— Signe  has  deceived  herself.  Gudmund  can- 
not be  coming. 

[Bengt  enters  hastily  from  the  back. 

Bengt. 

[Entering,    calls    loudly.]       An    unlooked-for 
guest,  my  wife ! 

Margit. 
What  guest.'' 

Bengt. 
Your    kinsman,     Gudmund     Alfson!        [Calls 
through   the    doorway   on    the    right.]       Let   the 


ACT    I.]        THE      FEAST      AT     SOLHOUG.  21S 


best  guest-room   be   prepared — and  that  forth- 
with! 

Margit. 
Is  he,  then,  already  here? 

Bengt. 

[Looking  out  through  the  passage-way. \ 
Nay,  not  yet;  but  he  cannot  be  far  off.  [Calls 
again  to  the  right.^  The  carved  oak  bed,  with 
the  dragon-heads  !  [Advances  to  lsl\Y^.Glr.^^  His 
shield-bearer  brings  a  message  of  greeting  from 
him;  and  he  himself  is  close  behind. 

Margit. 

His  shield-bearer !  Comes  he  hither  with  a 
shield-bearer  ? 

Bengt. 

Aye,  by  my  faith  he  does.  He  has  a  shield- 
bearer  and  six  armed  men  in  his  train.  What 
would  you.''  Gudmund  Alfson  is  a  far  other 
man  than  he  was  when  he  set  forth  to  seek  his 
fortune.  But  I  must  ride  forth  and  receive  him. 
[Calls  out.^  The  gilded  saddle  on  my  horse! 
And  forget  not  the  bridle  with  the  serpents' 
heads!  [Looks  out  to  the  hack.^^  Ha,  there  he 
is  already  at  the  gate!  Well,  then,  my  staff — 
my  silver-headed  staff !  Such  a  lordly  knight 
— Heaven  save  us ! — we  must  receive  him  with 
honour,  with  all  seemly  honour ! 

[Goes  hastily  out  to  the  hack. 


214  THE     FEAST     AT     S  O  L  H  O  U  G.        [aCT    I. 


Maugit. 
[Brooding.] 

Alone  he  departed,  a  penniless  swain; 

With    esquires    and    henchmen    now    comes    he 

again. 
What  would  he?     Comes  he,  forsooth,  to  see 
My  bitter  and  gnawing  misery? 
Would  he  try  how  long,  in  my  lot  accurst, 
I   can   writhe   and   moan,   ere   my   heart-strings 

burst — 
Thinks  he  that —  ?     Ah,  let  him  only  try ! 
Full  little  joy  shall  he  reap  thereby. 

[She  beckons  through  the  doorway  on  the 

right.     Three  handmaidens  enter. 
List,  little  maids,  what  I  say  to  you: 
Find  me  my  silken  mantle  blue. 
Go  with  me  into  my  bower  anon: 
My  richest  of  velvets  and  furs  do  on. 
Two  of  you  shall  deck  me  in  scarlet  and  vair. 
The  third  shall  wind  pearl-strings  into  my  hair. 
All  my  jewels  and  gauds  bear  away  with  ye! 

[The  handmaids  go  out  to  the  left,  taking 

the  ornaments  with  them. 
Since  Margit  the  Hill-King's  bride  must  be. 
Well !  don  we  the  queenly  livery ! 

[She  goes  out  to  the  left. 
[Bengt     ushers     in     Gudmund     Alfson, 

throiigh  the  pent-house  passage  at  the 

back. 

Benot. 
And  now  once  more — welcome  under  Solhoug's 
roof,  my  wife's  kinsman. 


ACT    I.]        THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.  215 


GUDMUND. 

I  thank  you.     And  how  goes  it  with  her  ?     She 
thrives  well  in  every  way,  I  make  no  doubt? 

Bengt. 
Aye,  you  may  be  sure  she  does.  There  is 
nothing  she  lacks.  She  has  five  handmaidens, 
no  less,  at  her  beck  and  call;  a  courser  stands 
ready  saddled  in  the  stall  when  she  lists  to  ride 
abroad.  In  one  word,  slie  has  all  that  a  noble 
lady  can  desire  to  make  her  happy  in  her  lot. 

GuDMUND. 

And  Margit — is  she  then  happy? 

Bengt. 

God  and  all  men  would  think  that  she  must 
be;  but,  strange  to  say — 

GuDMUND. 

What  mean  you? 

Bengt. 
Well,  believe  it  or  not  as  you  list,  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  Margit  was  merrier  of  heart  in  the 
days  of  her  poverty,  than  since  she  became  the 
lady  of  Solhoug. 

GuDMUND. 

[To  himself.]     I  knew  it;  so  it  must  be. 

Bengt. 
What  say  you,  kinsman  ? 


2l6  THE      FKAST     AT     SOLHOUG.        [aCT    I. 


GUDMUND. 


I  say  that  I  wonder  greatly  at  what  you  tell 
me  of  your  wife. 

Bengt. 

Aye,  you  may  be  sure  I  wonder  at  it  too.  On 
the  faith  and  troth  of  an  honest  gentleman,  'tis 
beyond  me  to  guess  what  more  she  can  desire. 
I  am  about  her  all  day  long;  and  no  one  can 
say  of  me  that  I  rule  her  harshly.  All  the  cares 
of  household  and  husbandry  I  have  taken  on 
myself;  yet  notwithstanding —  Well,  well,  you 
were  ever  a  merry  heart;  I  doubt  not  you  will 
bring  sunshine  with  you.  Hush !  here  comes 
Dame  Margit !     Let  her  not  see  that  I — 

[Margit     enters     from,     the     left,     richly 
dressed. 


GuDMUND. 

[Going  to  meet  her.]  Margit — my  dear  Mar- 
git! 

Margit. 

[Stops,  and  looks  at  him  without  recognition.] 
Your  pardon,  Sir  Knight;  but — ?  [As  though 
she  only  now  recognised  him.]  Surely,  if  I 
mistake  not,  'tis  Gudmund  Alfson. 

[Holding  out  her  hand  to  him. 

Gudmund. 

[Without  taking  it.]  And  you  did  not  at  once 
know  me  again? 


act  i.]     the    feast    at    solhouo.         217 

Bengt. 

[Laughing,]  Why,  Margit,  of  what  are  you 
thinking?  I  told  you  but  a  moment  agone  that 
your  kinsman — 

Margit. 

[Crossing  to  the  table  on  the  right.]  Twelve 
years  is  a  long  time,  Gudraund.  The  freshest 
plant  may  wither  ten  times  over  in  that  space. 


GUDMUND. 

'Tis  seven  years  since  last  we  met. 

Margit. 
Surely  it  must  be  more  than  that. 

GuDMUND. 

[Looking  at  her.]  I  could  almost  think  so. 
But  'tis  as  I  say. 

Margit. 

How  strange!  I  must  have  been  but  a  child 
then;  and  it  seems  to  me  a  whole  eternity  since 
I  was  a  child.  [Throws  herself  down  on  a 
chair.]  Well,  sit  you  down,  my  kinsman!  Rest 
you,  for  to-night  you  shall  dance,  and  rejoice  us 
with  your  singing.  [With  a  forced  smile.] 
Doubtless  you  know  we  are  merry  here  to-day — 
we  are  holding  a  feast. 

GuDMUND. 

'Twas  told  me  as  I  entered  your  homestead. 


218  THE     FEAST     AT     S  O  L  H  O  U  G.        [aCT    I. 


Bengt. 

Aye,  'tis  three  years  to-day  since  I  be- 
came— 

Margit. 

[Interrupting.]  My  kinsman  has  already 
heard  it.  [To  Gudmund.]  Will  you  not  lay 
aside  your  cloak? 

Gudmund. 

I  thank  you,  Dame  Margit;  but  it  seems  to 
me  cold  here — colder  than  I  had  foreseen. 


Bengt. 

For  my  part,  I  am  warm  enough;  but  then 
I  have  a  hundred  things  to  do  and  to  take  order 
for.  [To  Margit.]  Let  not  the  time  seem  long 
to  our  guest  while  I  am  absent.  You  can  talk 
together  of  the  old  days.  [Going. 

Margit. 

[Hesitating.]  Are  you  going?  Will  you  not 
rather —  ? 

Bengt. 

[Laughing,  to  Gudmund,  as  he  comes  for- 
ward again.]  See  you  well — Sir  Bengt  of  Sol- 
houg  is  the  man  to  make  tlie  women  fain  of  him. 
How  short  so  e'er  the  s]iace,  my  wife  cannot 
abide  to  be  without  me.  \To  Margit,  caressifig 
her.]  Content  you;  I  shall  soon  be  with  you 
again.  [lie  goes  out  to  the  back. 


ACT    1.1        THE      FEAST     AT     S  O  t,  H  O  U  G.  219 


Margit. 
[To  herself.]     Oh,  torture,  to  have  to  endure 
it  alh  [A  short  silence. 

GUDMUND. 

How  goes  it,  I  pray,  with  your  sister  dear? 

jNIargit. 
Right  well,  I  thank  you. 

GUDMUND. 

They  said  she  was  here 
With  you. 

Margit. 
She  has  been  here  ever  since  we — 

[Breaks  off. 
She  came,  now  three  years  since,  to  Solhoug  with 
me.  [After  a  pause. 

Ere  long  she'll  be  here,  her  friend  to  greet. 

GuDMUND. 

Well  I  mind  me  of  Signe's  nature  sweet. 

No  guile  she  dreamed  of,  no  evil  knew. 

When  I  call  to  remembrance  her  eyes  so  blue 

I  must  think  of  the  angels  in  heaven. 

But  of  years  there  have  passed  no  fewer  than 

seven ; 
In  that  time  much  may  have  altered.     Oh,  say 
If  she,  too,  has  changed  so  while  I've  been  away? 

Margit. 
She  too?     Is  it,  pray,  in  the  halls  of  kings 
That  you  learn  such  courtly  ways,  Sir  Knight? 
To  remind  me  thus  of  the  cliange  time  brings — 


220  THE     FKAST     AT     SOLHOUG.        [aCTI. 


GUDMUND. 

Nay,  Margit,  my  meaning  you  read  aright! 
You  were  kind  to  me,  both,  in  those  far-away 

years — 
Your  eyes,  when  we  parted  were  wet  with  tears. 
We  swore  like  brother  and  sister  still 
To  hold  together  in  good  hap  or  ill. 
'Mid  the  other  maids  like  a  smi  you  shone, 
Far,  far  and  wide  was  your  beauty  known. 
You  are  no  less  fair  than  you  were,  I  wot; 
But  Solhoug's  mistress,  I  see,  has  forgot 
The  penniless  kinsman.     So  hard  is  your  mind 
That  ever  of  old  was  gentle  and  kind. 

Mauoit. 
[Choking  back  her  tears.] 
Aye,  of  old — ! 

GuDMUND. 

[Looks  compassionately  at  her,  is  silent  for 
a  little,  then  says  in  a  subdued  voice. 

Shall  we  do  as  your  husband  said? 
Pass  the  time  with  talk  of  the  dear  old  days.'' 

Marqit. 

[Vehemently.] 

No,  no,  not  of  them !  [More  calmly. 

Their  memory's  dead. 
My  mind  unwillingW  backward  strays. 
Tell  rather  of  what  your  life  has  been, 
Of  what  in  the  wide  world  you've  done  and  seen. 
Adventures  you've  lacked  not,  well  I  ween — 


ACT    I.]        THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUQ.  221 


In  all  the  warmth  and  the  space  out  yonder. 
That  heart  and  mind  should  be  light,  what  won- 
der? 

GUDMUND. 

In  the  King's  high  hall  I  found  not  the  joy 
That  I  knew  by  my  own  poor  hearth  as  a  boy. 


Margit. 

[Without  looking  at  him.] 

While  I,  as  at  Solhoug  each  day  flits  past. 
Thank  Heaven  that  here  has  my  lot  been  cast. 

GuDMUND. 

'Tis  well  if  for  this  you  can  thankful  be — 

Margit. 

[Vehemently.] 

Why  not?     For  am  I  not  honoured  and  free? 
Must  not  all  folk  here  obey  my  best? 
Rule  I  not  all  things  as  seemeth  me  best? 
Here  I  am  first,  with  no  second  beside  me ; 
And  that,  as  you  know,  from  of  old  satisfied  me. 
Did  you  think  you  would  find  me  weary  and  sad  ? 
Nay,  my  mind  is  at  peace  and  my  heart  is  glad. 
You  might,  then,  have  spared  your  journey  here 
To  Solhoug;  'twill  profit  you  little,  I  fear. 

GUDMT^NI). 

\^Tiat,  mean  you,  Dame  Margit? 


222  THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.        [aCT    I. 

Margit. 
[Rising.] 

I  understand  all — 
I  know  why  you  come  to  my  lonely  hall. 

GUDMUND. 

And  you  welcome  me  not,  though  you  know  why 

I  came?  [Botving,  and  about  to  go. 

God's  peace  and  farewell^  then,  my  noble  dame ! 

Margit. 
To  have  stayed  in  the  royal  hall,  indeed. 
Sir  Knight,  had  better  become  your  fame. 

GuDMUND. 

[Stops.] 
In  the  royal  hall.''     Do  you  scofF  at  my  need? 

Margit. 
Your  need?     You  are  ill  to  content,  my  friend; 
Where,  I  would  know,  do  you  think  to  end? 
You  can  dress  you  in  velvet  and  cramoisie. 
You  stand  by  the  throne,  and  have  lands  in  fee — 

GuDMUND. 

Do  you  deem,  then,  that  fortime  is  kind  to  me? 
You  said  but  now  that  full  well  you  knew 
What  brought  me  to  Solhoug — 

Margit. 

I  told  you  true ! 

GuDMlTNn. 

Then  j'ou  know  wliat  of  late  has  befallen  me; — 
You  have  heard  the  talc  of  my  outlawry? 


ACT    I.]        THE     FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.  223 


Margit. 
[Terror-struck.] 
An  outlaw !     You^  Gudmund ! 

GUDMUND. 

I  am  indeed. 
But  I  swear,  by  the  Holy  Christ  I  swear, 
Had  I  known  the  thoughts  of  your  heart,  I  ne'er 
Had  bent  me  to  Solhoug  in  my  need. 
I  thought  that  you  still  were  gentle-heai-ted. 
As  you  ever  were  wont  to  be  ere  we  parted: 
But  I  truckle  not  to  you;  the  Avood  is  wide. 
My  hand  and  my  bow  shall  fend  for  me  there; 
I  will,  drink  of  the  mountain  brook,  and  hide 
My  head  in  the  wild  beast's  lair. 

[On  the  point  of  going. 

Margit. 

^  [Holding  him   back.] 

Outlawed  !     Nay,  stay  !     I  swear  to  you 
That  naught  of  your  outlawry  I  knew. 

Gudmund. 

It  is  as  I  tell  you.     My  life's  at  stake; 

And  to  live  are  all  men  fain. 

Three  nights  like  a  dog  'neath  the  sky  I've  lain, 

JNIy  couch  on  the  hillside  forced  to  make. 

With  for  pillow  the  boulder  grey. 

Though  too  proud  to  knock  at  tlie  door  of  the 

stranger. 
And  pray  liim  for  aid  in  the  hour  of  danger, 
Yet  strong  was  my  hope  as  I  held  on  my  way: 


224  THE      FKAST     AT     S  O  L,  H  O  U  G.        [aCT 


I  thought:  When  to  Solhoug  you  come  at  last 
Then  all  your  pains  will  be  done  and  past. 
You  have  sure  friends  there,  whatever  betide. — 
But  hope  like  a  wayside  flower  shrivels  up; 
Though  your  husband  met  me  with  flagon  and 

cup, 
And  his  doors  flung  open  wide, 
Within,  your  dwelling  seems  chill  and  bare; 
Dark  is  the  hall;  my  friends  are  not  there. 
'Tis  well;    I   will  back  to   my  hills   from   your 

halls. 


Oh,  hear  me 


Margit. 
[Beseechingly.  ] 

GUDMUND. 


My  soul  is  not  base  as  a  thrall's. 
Now  life  to  me  seems  a  thing  of  nought; 
Truly  I  hold  it  scarce  worth  a  thought. 
You  have  killed  all  that  I  hold  most  dear; 
Of  my  fairest  hopes  I  follow  the  bier. 
Farewell,  then.  Dame  Margit! 

Margit. 

Nay,  Gudmund,  hear! 
By  all  that  is  holy — ! 

Gudmund. 

Live  on  as  before 
Live  on  in  honour  and  joyance — 
Never  shall  Gudmund  darken  your  door, 
Never  shall  cause  you  'noyance. 


act  i.]      the    feast    at    solhoug.         225 

Margit. 
Enough^  enough.     Your  bitterness 
You  presently  shall  rue. 
Had  I  known  you  outlawed,  shelterless. 
Hunted  the  country  through — 
Trust  me,  the  day  that  brought  you  here 
Would  have  seemed  the  fairest  of  many  a  year; 
And  a  feast  I  had  counted  it  indeed 
When  you  turned  to  Solhoug  for  refuge  in  need. 

GUDMUND. 

What  say  you — ^    How  shall  I  read  your  mind.^ 

Margit. 

[Holding  out  her  hand  to  him.] 

Read  this:  that  at  Solhoug  dwell  Idnsfolk  kind. 

GuDMUND. 

But  you  said  of  late — .'' 

Margit. 

To  that  pay  no  heed. 
Or  hear  me,  and  understand  indeed. 
For  me  is  life  but  a  long,  black  night, 
Nor  sun,  nor  star  for  me  shines  bright. 
I  have  sold  my  youth  and  my  liberty, 
And  none  from  my  bargain  can  set  me  free. 
My  heart's  content  I  have  bartered  for  gold. 
With  gilded  chains  I  have  fettered  myself; 
Trust  me,  it  is  but  comfort  cold 
To  the  sorrowful  soul,  the  pride  of  pelf. 
How  blithe  was  my  childhood — how  free  from 
care! 


226  THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.        [aCTI. 

Our  house  was  lowly  and  scant  our  store; 
But  treasures  of  hope  in  my  breast  I  bore. 

GuDMUND. 

[Whose  eyes  have  been  fixed  upon  her.] 
E'en  then  you  were  growing  to  beauty  rare. 

Margit. 

Mayhap;  but  the  praises  showered  on  me 
Caused  the  wreck  of  my  happiness — that  I  now 

see. 
To  far-ofF  lands  away  you  sailed; 
But  deep  in  my  heart  was  graven  each  song 
You    had    ever    sung;    and    their    glamour    was 

strong; 
With  a  mist  of  dreams  my  brow  they  veiled. 
In  them  all  the  joys  you  had  dwelt  upon 
That  can  find  a  home  in  the  beating  breast; 
You  had  sung  so  oft  of  the  lordly  life 
'IVIid  knights  and  ladies.     And  lo !  anon 
Came  wooers  a  many  from  east  and  from  west; 
And  so — I  became  Bengt  Gauteson's  wife. 

GuDMUND. 

Oh,  Margit! 

Margit. 

The  days  that  passed  were  but  few 
Ere  with  tears  my  folly  I  'gan  to  rue. 
To  think,  my  kinsman  and  friend,  on  thee 
Was  all  the  comfort  left  to  me. 
How  empty  now  seemed  Solhoug's  hall, 
How  hateful  and  drear  its  great  rooms  all ! 


ACT    I.]        THE      FEAST      AT      S  O  L  H  O  U  G.  22', 


Hither  came  many  a  kniglit  and  dame. 

Came  many  a  skald  to  sing  my  fame. 

But  never  a  one  who  could  fathom  aright 

My  spirit  and  all  its  yearning — 

I  shivered,  as  though  in  the  Hill-King's  might; 

Yet  my  head  throbbed,  my  blood  was  burning. 

GUDMUND. 

But  your  husband — ? 

Margit. 

He  never  to  me  was  dear. 
'Twas  his  gold  was  my  undoing. 
When  he  spoke  to  me,  aye,  or  e'en  drew  near. 
My  spirit  writhed  with  ruing. 

[Clasping  her  hands. 
And  thus  have  I  lived  for  three  long  years — 
A  life  of  sorrow,  of  unstanched  tears ! 
Your  coming  was  rumoured.     You  know  full  well 
What  pride  deep  down  in  my  heart  doth  dwell. 
I  hid  my  anguish,  I  veiled  my  woe. 
For  you  were  the  last  that  the  truth  must  know. 

GuDMUND. 

{Moved.'\ 
'Twas  therefore,  then,  that  you  turned  away — ■ 

Margit, 

\Not  looking  at  him.] 
I  thought  you  came  at  my  woe  to  jeer. 

GuDMUND. 

Margit,  how  could  you  think — ? 


228  THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.        [aCTI. 


Margit. 

Nay,  nay. 
There  was  reason  enough  for  such  a  fear. 
But  thanks  be  to  Heaven,  that  fear  is  gone; 
And  now  no  longer  I  stand  alone; 
My  spirit  now  is  as  light  and  free 
As  a  child's  at  play  'neath  the  greenwood  tree. 

[With  a  sudden  start  of  fear. 
Ah,  where  are  my  wits  fled !     How  could  I  for- 

get—? 
Ye  saints,  I  need  sorely  your  succor  yet ! 
An  outlaw,  you  said — ? 

GUDMUND. 

[Smiling.^ 

Nay,  now  I'm  at  homej 
Hither  the  King's  men  scarce  dare  come. 

Margit. 
Your  fall  has  been  sudden.     I  pray  you,  tell 
How  you  lost  the  King's  favour. 

GuDMUND. 

'Twas  thus  it  befell. 
You  know  how  I  journeyed  to  France  of  late, 
When  the  Chancellor,  Audun  of  Hegranes, 
Fared  thither  from  Bergen,  in  royal  state, 
To  lead  home  the  King's  bride,  the  fair  Princess, 
With    her    squires,    and    maidens,    and    ducats 

briglit. 
Sir  Audun's  a  fair  and  a  stately  knight. 
The  Princess  shone  with  a  beauty  rare — 
Her  eyes  seemed  full  of  a  burning  prayer. 


ACT    I.]        THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHO^G.  229 


They  would  oft  talk  alone  and  in  whispers,  the 

two — 
Of  what?     That  nobody  guessed  or  knew. 
There  came  a  night  when  I  leant  at  ease 
Against  the  galley's  railing; 
My  thoughts  flew  onward  to  Norway's  leas. 
With  the  milk-white  seagulls  sailing. 
Two  voices  whispered  behind  my  back; — 
I  turned — it  was  he  and  she; 
I  knew  them  well,  though  the  night  was  black. 
But  they — they  saw  not  me. 
She  gazed  upon  him  with  sorrowful  eyes 
And  whispered:  "Ah,  if  to  southern  skies 
We  could  turn  the  vessel's  prow, 
And  we  were  alone  in  the  bark,  we  twain, 
My  heart,  methinks,  would  find  peace  again. 
Nor  would  fever  burn  my  brow." 
Sir  Audun  answers;  and  straight  she  replies. 
In  words  so  fierce,  so  bold; 
Like  glittering  stars  I  can  see  her  eyes ; 
She  begged  him —  [Breaking  off. 

My  blood  ran  cold. 

Margit. 
She  begged — ? 

GUDMUND. 

I  arose,  and  they  vanished  apace; 
All  was  silent,  fore  and  aft; — 

[Producing  a  small  phial. 
But  this  I  found  by  their  resting  place. 

Margit. 
And  that—? 


230  THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.        [aCT 


GUDMUND. 

[Lowering  his  voice.] 

Holds  a  secret  draught. 
A  drop  of  this  in  your  enemy's  cup 
And  his  life  will  sicken  and  wither  up. 
No  leechcraft  helps  'gainst  the  deadly  thing. 

Margit. 
And  that—? 

GuDMUND. 

That  draught  was  meant  for  the  King. 

Margit. 
Great  God ! 

GuDMUND. 

[Putting  up   the  phial  again.] 

That  I  found  it  was  well  for  them  all. 
In  three  days  more  was  our  voyage  ended; 
Then  I  fled,  by  my  faithful  men  attended. 
For  I  knew  right  well,  in  the  royal  hall, 
That  Audun  subtly  would  work  my  fall, — 
Accusing  me — 

Margit. 

Aye,  but  at  Solhoug  he 
Cannot  harm  you.     All  as  of  old  will  be. 

GuDMUND. 

All?     Nay,  Margit — you  then  were  free. 

Margit. 
You  mean — ? 


ACT    I.]        THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG. 


231 


GUUMUND. 

I  ?     Nay,  I  meant  naught.     My  brain 
Is  wildered;  but  ah^  I  am  blithe  and  fain 
To  be,  as  of  old,  with  you  sisters  twain. 
But  tell  me, — Signe — .'^ 

Margit. 
[Points  smiling  towards  the  door  on  the  left.^ 
She  comes  anon. 
To  greet  her  kinsman  she  needs  must  don 
Her  trinkets— a  task  that  takes  time,  'tis  plain. 

GUDMUND. 

I  must  see — I  must  see  if  she  knows  me  again. 
[He  goes  out  to  the  left. 

Margit. 
[Following  him  with  her  eyes.]  How  fair 
and  manlike  he  is!  [With  a  sigh.]  There  is 
little  likeness  'twixt  him  and —  [Begins  putting 
things  in  order  on  the  table,  hut  presently 
stops.  ]  "  You  then  were  free,"  he  said.  Yes, 
then!  [A  short  pause.]  'Twas  a  strange  tale, 
that  of  the  Princess  who —  She  held  another 
dear,  and  then —  Aye,  those  women  of  far-ofF 
lands —  I  have  heard  it  before — they  are  not 
weak  as  we  are ;  they  do  not  fear  to  pass  from 
thought  to  deed.  [Takes  up  a  goblet  which 
stands  on  the  table.]  'Twas  in  tliis  beaker  that 
Gudman  and  I,  when  he  went  away,  drank  to 
his  happy  return.  'Tis  well-nigh  the  only  heir- 
loom I  brought  with  me  to  Solhoug.  [Putting 
the  goblet  away  in  a  cupboard.]      How  soft  is 


232  THE     FEAST     AT     SOLHOUQ.        [aCT    1. 


this  summer  day ;  and  how  light  it  is  in  here ! 
So  sweetly  has  the  sun  not  shone  for  three  long 
years. 

[SiGNJc,,    and   after    her   Gudmund,    enters 
from  the  left. 

SiGNE. 

[Runs  laughing  up  to  Margit.] 
Ha,  ha,  ha !     He  will  not  believe  that  'tis  I ! 

]\Iargit. 
[Smiling,  to  Gudmund.] 
You  see:  while  in  far-oiF  lands  you  strayed, 
She,  too,  has  altered,  the  little  maid. 

Gudmund. 
Aye  truly !     But  that  she  should  be —    Why, 
'Tis  a  marvel  in  very  deed. 

[Takes  both  Signe's  hands  and  looks  at  her. 
Yet,  when  I  look  in  these  eyes  so  blue. 
The  innocent  child-mind  I  still  can  read — 
Yes,  Signe,  I  know  that  'tis  you! 
I  needs  must  laugh  when  I  think  how  oft 
I  have  thought  of  you  perched  on  my  shoulder 

aloft 
As  you  used  to  ride.     You  were  then  a  child; 
Now  you  are  a  nixie,  spell-weaving,  wild. 

Signe. 
[Threatening  with  her  finger.] 
Beware !     If  the  nixie's  ire  you  awaken. 
Soon  in  her  nets  you  will  find  yourself  taken. 


ACT    I.]        THE      FEAST     AT     S  O  L  H  O  U  G.  233 


GUDMUND. 

[To  himself.] 
I  am  snared  already,  it  seems  to  me. 

SiGNE. 

But,  Gudmund,  wait — you  have  still  to  see 
How  I've  shielded  your  harp  from  the  dusc  and 
the  rust. 

[As  she  goes  out  to  the  left. 

You   shall   teach   me   all  of   your   songs !      You 
must! 

Gudmund. 

[Softly,  as  he  follows  her  with  his  eyes.] 

She  has  flushed  to  the  loveliest  rose  of  ^lay. 
That  was  yet  but  a  bud  in  the  morning's  ray. 

SiGNE. 

[Heturning  with  the  harp.] 
Behold ! 

Gudmund. 

[Taking  it.] 

My  harp !     As  bright  as  of  yore ! 

[Striking  one  or  two  chords. 

Still  the  old  chords  ring  sweet  and  clear — 
On  the  wall,  untouched,  thou  shalt  hang  no  more. 

Margit. 
[Looking  out  at  the  back.] 
Our  guests  are  coming. 


234-  THE      FEAST     AT     S  O  L  H  O  U  G.        [aCT    I. 

Si  ONE. 

[While  GuDMUND  preludes  his  so7ig.] 

Hush — hush !     Oh,  hear ! 

GuDMUND. 

[  Sings.  ] 

I  roamed  through  the  uplands  so  heavy  of  cheer ; 
The  little  birds  quavered  in  bush  and  in  brere; 
The  little  birds  quavered,  around  and  above: 
Wouldst   know   of   the   sovi'ing  and   growing  of 
love  ? 

It  grows  like  the  oak  tree  through  slow-rolling 

years ; 
'Tis  nourished  by  dreams,  and  by  songs,  and  by 

tears ; 
But  swiftly  'tis  sown ;  ere  a  moment  speeds  by, 
Deep,  deep  in  the  heart  love  is  rooted  for  aye. 

[As  he  strikes  the  concluding  chords,  he 
goes  towards  the  back,  where  he  lays 
down  his  harp. 

SiGNE. 

[Thoughtfully,  repeats  to  herself.] 

But  swiftly  'tis  sown;  ere  a  moment  speeds  by. 
Deep,  deep  in  the  heart  love  is  rooted  for  aye. 

Margit. 

[Absently.]     Did  you  speak  to  me? — I  heard 
not  clearly — ? 


ACT    I.]        THE     FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.  235 


SiGNE. 

I  ?     No,  no.     I  only  meant — 

[She  again  becomes  absorbed  in  dream*. 

Margit. 

[Half  aloud;  looking  straight  before  her.] 

It  grows  like  the  oak  tree  through  slow-rolling 

years ; 
'Tis  nourished  by  dreams,  and  by  songs  and  by 
tears. 

Signe. 
[Returning  to  herself.]     You  said  that — ? 

Margit. 

[Drawing  her  hand  over  her  brow.]  Nay, 
'twas  nothing.  Come,  we  must  go  meet  our 
guests. 

[Bengt  enters  with  many  Guests,  both 
men  and  women,  through  the  passage- 
way. 

Guests. 
[Sing.] 
With  song  and  harping  enter  we 
The  feast-hall  opened  wide; 
Peace  to  our  hostess  kind  and  free. 

All  happiness  to  her  betide. 
O'er  Solhoug's  roof  for  ever  may 
Bright  as  to-day 
The  heavens  abide. 


ACT    SECOND 

A  birch  grove  adjoining  the  house,  one  corner  of 
which  is  seen  to  the  left.  At  the  back,  a 
footpath  leads  up  the  hillside.  To  the  right 
of  the  footpath  a  river  comes  tumbling  down 
a  ravine  and  loses  itself  among  boulders 
and  stones.  It  is  a  light  summer  evening. 
The  door  leading  to  the  house  stands  open; 
the  windows  are  lighted  up.  Music  is  heard 
from  within. 

The  Guests. 

[Singing  in  the  Feast  Hall.] 

Set  bow  to  fiddle !     To  sound  of  strings 
We'll  dance  till  night  shall  furl  her  wings, 

Through  the  long  hours  glad  and  golden ! 
Like  blood-red  blossom  the  maiden  glows — 
Come,  bold  young  wooer  and  hold  the  rose 

In  a  soft  embrace  enfolden. 

[Knut  Gesling  and  Erik  of  Hegge  enter 
from  the  house.  Sounds  of  music, 
dancing  and  merriment  are  heard  from 
within  during  what  follows. 

Erik. 

If  only  you  come  not  to  repent  it,  Knut. 
236 


ACT    II.]       THE      FEAST      AT      S  O  L  H  O  U  G.  237 


Knut. 

That  is  my  affair. 

Erik. 

Well,  say  what  you  will,  'tis  a  daring  move. 
You  are  the  King's  Sheriff.  Commands  go  forth 
to  you  that  you  shall  seize  the  person  of  Gud- 
mund  Alfson,  wherever  you  may  find  him.  And 
now,  when  you  have  him  in  your  grasp,  you 
proffer  him  your  friendship,  and  let  him  go 
freely,  whithersoever  he  will. 

Knut. 

I  know  what  I  am  doing.  I  sought  him  in  his 
own  dwelling,  but  there  he  was  not  to  be  found. 
If,  now,  I  went  about  to  seize  him  here — think 
you  that  Dame  Margit  would  be  minded  to  give 
me  Signe  to  wife.^ 

Erik. 

[With  deliberation.]  No,  by  fair  means  it 
might  scarcely  be,  but — 

Knut. 

And  by  foul  means  I  am  loth  to  proceed. 
Moreover,  Gudmund  is  my  friend  from  bygone 
days;  and  he  can  be  helpful  to  me.  [JVith  de- 
cision.] Therefore  it  shall  be  as  I  have  said. 
This  evening  no  one  at  Sollioug  shall  know  that 
Gudmund  Alfson  is  an  outlaw; — to-morrow  he 
must  look  to  himself. 


238  THE      FEAST      AT      S  O  L  H  O  U  G.       [aCT    II. 


Erik. 
Aye,  but  the  King's  decree? 

Knut. 
Oh,  the  King's  decree !  You  know  as  well  as 
I  that  the  King's  decree  is  but  little  heeded  here 
in  the  uplands.  Were  the  King's  decree  to  be 
enforced,  many  a  stout  fellow  among  us  would 
have  to  pay  dear  both  for  bride-rape  and  for 
man-slaying.  Come  this  way,  I  would  fain 
know  where  Signe — ? 

\They  go  out  to  the  right. 
[GuDMUND  and  Signe  come  down  the  foot- 
path at  the  hack. 

Signe. 
Oh,  speak !     Say  on  !     For  sweeter  far 
Such  words  than  sweetest  music  are. 

GuDMUND. 

Signe,  my  flower,  my  lily  fair ! 

Signe. 
\In  subdued,  hut  happy  wonderment.^ 
I  am  dear  to  him — I ! 

GuDMUND. 

As  none  other  I  swear. 

Signe. 
And  is  it  I  that  can  bind  your  will ! 
And  is  it  I  that  your  heart  can  fill ! 
Oh,  dare  I  believe  you? 


ACT    II.]       THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.  239 


GUDMUND. 


Indeed  you  may. 
List  to  me,  Signe !     The  years  sped  away. 
But  faithful  was  I  in  my  thouglits  to  you. 
My  fairest  flowers,  ye  sisters  two. 
My  own  heart  I  could  not  clearly  read. 
When  I  left,  my  Signe  was  but  a  child, 
A  fairy  elf,  like  the  creatures  wild 
Who  play,  while  we  sleep,  in  wood  and  mead. 
But  in  Solhoug's  hall  to-day,  right  loud 
My  heart  spake,  and  right  clearly ; 
It  told  me  that  Margit's  a  lady  proud. 
Whilst    you're    the    sweet    maiden    I    love    most 
dearly. 

Signe. 

[Who  has  only  half  listened  to  his  words.] 

I  mind  me,  we  sat  in  the  hearth's  red  glow, 
One  winter  evening — 'tis  long  ago — 
And  you  sang  to  me  of  the  maiden  fair 
Whom  the  neckan  had  lured  to  his  watery  lair. 
There  she  forgot  both  father  and  mother. 
There  she  forgot  both  sister  and  brother; 
Heaven  and  earth  and  her  Christian  speech. 
And  her  God,  she  forgot  them  all  and  each. 
But  close  by  the  strand  a  stripling  stood 
And  he  was  heartsore  and  heavy  of  mood. 
He  struck  from  his  harpstrings  notes  of  woe. 
That  wide  o'er  the  waters  rang  loud,  rang  low. 
The  spell-boiuid  maid  in  the  tarn  so  deep. 
His  strains  awoke  from  her  heavy  sleep. 
The  neckan  nuist  grant  lier  release  from  his  rule. 
She  rose  through  the  lilies  afloat  on  the  pool — 


240  THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.       [acTII. 


Then  looked  she  to  heaven  wliile  on  green  earth 

she  trod, 
And  wakened  once  more  to  her   faith  and  her 

God. 

GUDMUND. 

Signe,  my  fairest  of  flowers ! 

SiGNE. 

It  seems 
That  I,  too,  have  lived  in  a  world  of  dreams. 
But  the  strange  deep  words  you  to-night  have 

spoken, 
Of  the  power  of  love,  have  my  slumber  broken. 
The  heavens  seemed  never  so  blue  to  me. 
Never  the  world  so  fair; 
I  can  understand,  as  I  roam  with  thee. 
The  song  of  the  birds  in  air. 

GuDMUND. 

So  mighty  is  love — it  stirs  in  the  breast 
Thoughts  and  longings  and  happy  unrest. 
But  come,  let  us  both  to  your  sister  go. 

SiGNE. 

Would  you  tell  her — ? 

GuDMUND. 

Everything  she  must  know. 

SiGNE. 

Then  go  you  alone; — I  feel  that  my  cheek 
Would  be  hot  with  blushes  to  hear  you  speak. 


ACT    II.]       THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUO.  241 


GUDMUND. 

So  be  it,  I  go. 

SiGNE. 

And  here  will  I  bide; 

[Listening  towards  the  right. 
Or  better — down  by  the  riverside, 
I  hear  Knut  Gesling,  with  maidens  and  men. 

GuDMUND. 

There  will  you  stay? 

SiGNE. 

Till  you  come  again. 
[She  goes  out  to  the  right.     Gudmund  goes 

into  the  house. 
[Margit  enters  from  behind  the  house  on 

the  left. 

Margit. 

In  the  hall  there  is  gladness  and  revelry; 
The  dancers  foot  it  with  jest  and  glee. 
The  air  weighed  hot  on  my  brow  and  breast; 
For  Gudmund,  he  was  not  there. 

[She  draws  a  deep  breath. 

Out  here  'tis  better:  here's  quiet  and  rest. 
How  sweet  is  the  cool  night  air ! 

[A  brooding  silence. 

That  horrible  thought !     Oh,  why  should  it  be 
That  wherever  I  go  it  follows  me.'' 


242  THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.       [aCT    II. 


The  phial — doth  a  secret  draught  contain; 
A  drop  of  this  in  my — enemy's  cup. 
And  his  life  would  sicken  and  wither  up; 
The  leech's  skill  would  be  tried  in  vain. 

[Again  a  silence. 
"Were  I  sure  that  Gudmund — held  me  dear — 
Then  little  I'd  care  for — 

[Gudmund  enters  from  the  house. 

Gudmund. 

You,  Margit,  here? 
And  alone?     I  have  sought  you  everywhere. 

Margit. 

'Tis  cool  here.     I  sickened  of  heat  and  glare. 
See  you  how  yonder  the  white  mists  glide 
Softly  over  the  marshes  wide? 
Here  it  is  neither  dark  nor  light. 
But  midway  between  them — 

\To  herself. 
— as  in  my  breast. 

{Looking  at  him, 
Is't  not  so — when  you  wander  on  such  a  night 
You  hear,  though  but  half  to  yourself  confessed, 
A  stirring  of  secret  life  through  the  hush. 
In  tree  and  in  leaf,  in  flower  and  in  rush? 

[With  a  sudden  change  of  tone. 
Can  you  guess  what  I  wish? 

Gudmund. 

Well? 


ACT    II.]      THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG,  243 


Margit. 

That  I  could  be 
The  nixie  that  haunts  yonder  upland  lea. 
How  cunningly  I  should  weave  my  spell! 
Trust  me — ! 

GUDMUND. 

Margit,  what  ails  you?      Tell! 

Margit. 
[Paying  no  heed  to  him.] 

How  I  should  quaver  my  magic  lay ! 
Quaver  and  croon  it  both  night  and  day ! 

[JVith  grorving  vehemence. 
How  I  would  lure  the  knight  so  bold 
Through  the  greenwood  glades  to  my  mountain 

hold. 
There  were  the  world  and  its  woes  forgot 
In  the  burning  joys  of  our  blissful  lot. 

GuDMUND. 

Margit !     Margit ! 

Margit. 

[Ever  more  wildly.] 

At  midnight's  hour 
Sweet  were  our  sleep  in  my  lonely  bower; — 
And  if  death  should  come  with  the  dawn,  I  trow 
'Twere  sweet  to  die  so; — what  thinkest  thou.'' 

GuDMUND. 

You  are  sick ! 


244  THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.       [acT    II. 


Margit. 

[Bursting  into  laughter.] 

Ha,  ha  ! — Let  me  laugh  !     'Tis  good 
To  laugh  when  the  heart  is  in  laughing  mood! 

GUDMUND. 

I  see  that  you  still  have  the  same  wild  soul 
As  of  old — 

Margit. 

[With  sudden  seriousness.] 

Nay,  let  not  that  vex  your  mind, 
'Tis  only  at  midnight  it  mocks  control; 
By  day  I  am  timid  as  any  hind. 
How  tame  I  have  grown,  you  yourself  must  say. 
When    you    think    on    the    women    in    lands    far 

away — 
Of  that  fair   Princess — ah,  she  was  wild! 
Beside  her  lamblike  am  I  and  mild. 
She  did  not  helplessly  yearn  and  brood. 
She  would  have  acted;  and  that — 

GuDMUND. 

'Tis  good 
You  remind  me;  straightway  I'll  cast  away 
What  to  me  is  valueless  after  this  day — 

[Takes  out  the  phiaL 

Margit. 
The  phial!     You  meant — ? 


ACT    II.]      THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.  245 


GuDMUND. 

I  thought  it  might  be 
At  need  a  friend  that  should  set  me  free 
Should  the  King's  men  chance  to  lay  hands  on 

me. 
But  from  to-night  it  has  lost  its  worth ; 
Now  will  I  fight  all  the  kings  of  earth, 
Gather  my  kinsfolk  and  friends  to  the  strife, 
And  battle  right  stoutly  for  freedom  and  life. 
[7*  about  to  throw  the  phial  against  a  rock. 

Margit. 
[Seizing  his  arm.^ 
Nay,  hold!     Let  me  have  it — 

GuDMUND. 

First  tell  me  why  ? 

Margit. 

I'd  fain  fling  it  down  to  the  neckan  hard  by. 
Who  so  often  has  made  my  dull  hours  fleet 
With    his    harping    and    songs,    so   strange    and 

sweet. 
Give  it  me!  [Takes  the  phial  from  his  hand. 

There ! 

[Feigns  to  throw  it  into  the  river. 

GuDMUND. 

[Goes   to   the   right,  and   looks   down   into    the 
ravine.] 

Have  you  thrown  it  away? 


246  THE     FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.      [aCTII. 


Margit. 

[Concealing  the  phial.] 

Aye,  surely  !     You  saw — 

[Whispers  as  she  goes  towards  the  house. 

Now  God  help  and  spare  me ! 
The  ice  must  now  either  break  or  bear  me ! 

[Aloud. 
Gudmund ! 

GUDMUND. 

[Approaching.^ 
What  would  you? 

Margit. 

Teach  me,  I  pray. 
How  to  interpret  the  ancient  lay 
They  sing  of  tlie  church  in  the  valley  there: 
A  gentle  knight  and  a  lady  fair. 
They  loved  each  other  well. 
That  very  day  on  her  bier  she  lay 
He  on  his  sword-point  fell. 
They  buried  her  by  the  northward  spire. 
And  him  by  the  south  kirk  wall; 
And  theretofore  grew  neither  bush  nor  briar 
In  the  hallowed  ground  at  all. 
But  next  spring  from  their  coffins  twain 
Two  lilies  fair  upgrew — 
And  by  and  by,  o'er  tlic  roof-tree  high, 
They  twined  and  they  bloomed  the  whole  year 

through. 
How  read  you  the  riddle? 


ACTH.]      THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.  247 

GUDMUND. 

[Looks  searchingly   at  her.] 

I  scarce  can  say. 

Margit. 
You  may  doubtless  read  it  in  many  a  way; 
But  its  truest  meaning,  methinks,  is  clear: 
The  church  can  never  sever  two  that  hold  each 
other  dear. 

GuDMUND. 

[To  himself.] 
Ye  saints,  if  she  should — ?     Lest  worse  befall, 
'Tis  time  indeed  I  told  her  all!  {Aloud. 

Do  you  wish  for  my  happiness — Margit,  tell ! 

Margit. 
[7n  joyful  agitation.] 
Wish  for  it !     I ! 

GuDMUND. 

Then,  wot  you  well. 
The  joy  of  my  life  now  rests  with  you — 

Margit. 
[With  an  outburst.] 
Gudmund ! 

GuDMUND. 

Listen !  'tis  time  you  knew — 

[He  stops  suddenly. 

[Voices  and  laughter  are  heard  by  the  river 

bank.     SiGNii  and  some  other  Girls  en- 


248  THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.      [acTII. 


ter  from  the  right,  accompanied  by 
Knut,  Erik  and  several  Younger 
Men. 

Knut. 
[Still    at    a    distance.]       Gudmund    Alfson! 
Wait;  I  must  speak  a  word  with  you, 

[He  stops,  talking  to  Erik.  2'he  other 
Guests  in  the  meantime  enter  the 
house. 

Margit. 
[To  herself.]      The  joy  of  his  life—!     What 
else  can  he  mean  but — !     [Half  aloud.]     Signe 
• — my  dear,  dear  sister  ! 

[She  puts  her  arm  round  Signe'*  waist, 
and  they  go  towards  the  back  talking 
to  each  other. 

Gudmund. 
[Softly,   as   he  follows   them   with   his   eyes.] 
Aye,  so  it  were  wisest.     Both  Signe  and  I  must 
away  from   Solhoug.      Knut  Gesling  has   shown 
himself  my  friend;  he  will  help  me. 

Knut. 
[Softly,  to  Erik.]     Yes,  yes,  I  say,  Gudmund 
is  her  kinsman;  he  can  best  plead  my  cause. 

Erik. 
Well,  as  you  will.         [He  goes  into  the  house. 

Knut. 

[Approaching.]      Listen,  Gudmund — 


ACT  II. J   THE   FEAST   AT   S  O  L  H  O  U  G.     249 
GUDMUND. 

[Smiling.]      Come   you   to   tell   me   that   you 
dare  no  longer  let  me  go  free. 


Knut. 

Dare !  Be  at  your  ease  as  to  that.  Knut 
Gesling  dares  whatever  he  will.  No,  'tis  an- 
other matter.  You  know  that  here  in  the  dis- 
trict, I  am  held  to  be  a  wild,  unruly  com- 
panion— 

GuDMUND. 

Aye,  and  if  rumour  lies  not — 

Knut. 

Why  no,  much  that  it  reports  may  be  true 
enough.     But  now,  I  must  tell  you — 

[They  go,  conversing,  up  towards  the  back. 

SiGNE. 

[To  Margit,  as  they  come  forward  beside 
the  house.]  I  understand  you  not.  You  speak 
as  though  an  imlooked-for  happiness  had  befal- 
len you.     What  is  in  your  mind.'' 

Margit. 

Signe — you  are  still  a  child ;  you  know  not 
what  it  means  to  have  ever  in  3'our  heart  the 
dread  of —  \Suddenlij  breaking  off.]  Think, 
Signe,  what  it  must  be  to  wither  and  die  with- 
out ever  havinf^j  lived. 


250  THE     FEAST     AT     S  O  L  H  O  U  G.      [aCT    II. 


SiGNE. 

[Looks  at  her  in  astonishment,  and  shakes  her 
head.]      Nay,  but,  Margit — ? 

Margit, 

Aye,  aye,  you  do  not  understand,  but  none  the 
less — 

[They  go  up  again,  talking  to  each  other. 
GuDMUND  and  Knut  come  down  on  the 
other  side. 

GuDMUND. 

Well,  if  so  it  be-^if  this  wild  life  no  longer 
contents  you — then  I  will  give  you  the  best 
counsel  that  ever  friend  gave  to  friend:  take  to 
wife  an  honourable  maiden. 

Knut. 

Say  you  so?  And  if  I  now  told  you  that  'tis 
even  that  I  have  in  mind.'' 

GuDMUND. 

Good  luck  and  happiness  to  you  then,  Knut 
Gesling !  And  now  you  must  know  that  I 
too — 

Knut. 

You?     Are  you,  too,  so  purposed? 

GuDMUND. 

Aye,  truly.  But  the  King's  wrath — I  am  a 
banished  man — - 


ACT    11.]       THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.  251 


Knut. 

Nay,  to  that  you  need  give  but  little  thought. 
As  yet  there  is  no  one  here,  save  Dame  Margit, 
that  knows  aught  of  the  matter;  and  so  long  as 
1  am  your  friend,  you  have  one  in  whom  you 
can  trust  securely.     Now  I  must  tell  you — 

[He  proceeds  in  a  whisper  as  they  go  up 
again. 

SiGNE. 

[As  she  and  Margit  again  advance.]  But 
tell  me  then,  Margit — ! 

Margit. 
More  I  dare  not  tell  you. 

Signe. 
Then  will  I  be  more  open-hearted  than  you. 
But  first  answer  me  one  question.      [Bashfully, 
with  hesitation.]     Is  there — is  there  no  one  who 
has  told  you  anything  concerning  me.'' 

Margit. 
Concerning  you?     Nay,  what  shoald  that  be? 

Signe. 
[As   before,  looking  downwards.]      You   said 
to   me    this    morning:    if    a   w^ooer    came    riding 
hither —  ? 

Margit. 
That  is  true.      [To  herself.]      Knut  Gesling — 
lias  lie  already — ?     [Eagerly,  to  Signe.]     Well? 
What  then? 


252  THE     FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG,       [aCT    II. 


SiGNE. 


[Softly,  but  with  exultation.]  The  wooer  has 
come !  He  has  come,  Margit !  I  knew  not  then 
whom  you  meant ;  but  now — ! 

Margit. 
And  what  have  you  answered  him.^  . 

Signe. 

Oh,  how  should  I  know?  [Flinging  her  arms 
round  her  sister's  neck.]  But  the  world  seems 
to  me  so  rich  and  beautiful  since  the  moment 
when  he  told  me  that  he  held  me  dear. 

Margit. 

Why,  Signe,  Signe,  I  cannot  understand  that 
you  should  so  quickly — !  You  scarce  knew  him 
before  to-day. 

Signe. 

Oh,  'tis  but  little  I  yet  know  of  love;  but  this 
I  know  that  what  the  song  says  is  true : 
Full  swiftly  'tis  sown;  ere  a  moment  speeds  by, 
Deep,  deep  in  the  heart  love  is  rooted  for  aye — 

Margit. 

So  be  it;  and  since  so  it  is,  I  need  no  longer 
hold  aught  concealed  from  you.     Ah — 

[She  stops  suddenly,  as  she  sees  Knut  and 
GuDMUND  approaching. 


ACT    II.]      THE      FEAST     AT     S  O  L  H  O  U  G.  253 


Knut. 
[In  a  tone  of  satisfaction.]      Ha,  this  is  as  I 
would  have  it,  Gudmund.     Here  is  my  hand! 

Margit. 
[To  herself.]     What  is  this? 

Gudmund. 
[To  Knut.]     And  here  is  mine! 

[TheT/  shake  hands. 

Knut. 

But  now  we   must  each   of   us   name   who   it 
is — 

Gudmund. 

Good.     Here  at  Solhoug,  among  so  many  fair 
women,  I  have  found  her  whom — 

Knut. 
I  too.     And  I  will  bear  her  home  this  very 
night,  if  it  be  needful. 

Margit. 

[Who     has     approached     unobserved.]        All 
saints  in  heaven ! 

Gudmund. 
[Nods  to  Knut.]     The  same  is  my  intent! 

Signe:. 
[Who  has  also  been  listening.]     Gudmimd! 


254  THE     FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.      [acT    II. 


GUDMUND    AND    KnuT. 

[Whispering  to  each  other,  as  they  both  point 
at  SiGNE.]     There  she  is! 


GuDMUND. 

[Starting.]      Aye,  mine. 

Knut. 
[Likewise.]      No,  mine! 

Margit. 
[Softly,  half  bewildered.]      Signe! 

GuDMUND. 

[As  before,  to  Knut.]      What  mean  you  by 
that.? 

Knut. 
I  mean  that  'tis  Signe  whom  I — 

GuDMUND. 

Signe !     Signe  is  my  betrothed  in  the  sight  of 
God. 

Margit. 
[With  a  cry.]     It  was  she!     No — no! 

GuDMUND. 

[To    himself,   as    he    catches    sight    of   her.] 
Margit!     She  has  heard  everything. 


act  ii.]     the    feast    at    s  o  l  h  o  u  g.         255 

Knut. 

Ho,  ho !  So  this  is  how  it  stands  ?  Nay, 
Dame  Margit,  'tis  needless  to  put  on  such  an 
air  of  wonder;  now  I  understand  everything. 

Margit. 
[To   SiGNE.]      But   not   a   moment   ago   you 
said — .''       [Suddenly    grasping    the    situation. \ 
'Twas  Gudmund  you  meant ! 

SiGNE. 

[Astonished.]  Yes,  did  you  not  know  it! 
But  what  ails  you,  Margit.'' 

Margit. 
[In  an  almost  toneless  voice.]     Nay,  nothing, 
nothing. 

Knut. 

[To  Margit.]  And  this  morning,  when  you 
made  me  give  my  word  that  I  would  stir  no 
strife  here  to-night — you  already  knew  that 
Gudmund  Alfson  was  coming.  Ha,  ha,  think 
not  that  you  can  hoodwink  Knut  Gesling !  Signe 
has  become  dear  to  me.  Even  this  morning  'twr.s 
but  my  hasty  vow  that  drove  me  to  seek  her 
hand;  but  now — 

Signe. 
[To   Margit.]       He."^      Was   this   tha   wooer 
tliat  was  in  your  uiiiid.^ 

Maroit. 

Hush,  hush ! 


^56  THK     FEAST     AT      SOLHOUO.      [aCT    II. 


Knut. 

[Firmly  and  harshly.]  Dame  Margit — you 
are  her  elder  sister;  you  shall  give  me  an  answer. 

Margit. 

[Battling  with  herself.]  Signe  has  already 
made  her  choice; — I  have  naught  to  answer. 

Knut. 

Good;  then  I  have  nothing  more  to  do  at 
Solhoug.  But  after  midnight — mark  you  this — 
the  day  is  at  an  end;  then  you  may  chance  to  see 
me  again,  and  then  Fortune  must  decide  whether 
it  be  Gudmund  or  I  that  shall  bear  Signe  away 
from  this  house. 

Gudmund. 

Aye,  try  if  you  dare;  it  shall  cost  you  a 
bloody  sconce. 

Signe. 

[In  terror.]     Gudmund!     By  all  the  saints — ! 

Knut. 

Gently,  gently,  Gudmund  Alfson !  Ere  sun- 
rise you  shall  be  in  my  power.  And  she — your 
lady-love —  [Goes  up  to  the  door,  beckons  and 
calls  in  a  low  voice.]  Erik!  Erik!  come  hither! 
we  must  away  to  our  kinsfolk.  [Threateningly, 
while  EniK  shows  himself  in  the  doorway.] 
Woe  upon  you  all  when  I  come  again  ! 

[He  and  Erik  go  off  to  the  left  at  the  back.] 


ACT    II.]      THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG,  257 


SiGNE. 

[Softly    to   GuDMUND.]       Oh,   tell    me,    what 
does  all  this  mean? 

GuDMUND. 

[Whispering.]      We  must  both  leave  Solhoug 
this  very  night. 

SiGNE. 

God  shield  me — you  would — ! 

GuDMUND. 

Say  nought  of  it !     No  word  to  any  one,  not 
even  to  your  sister. 

Margit. 
[To  herself.]     She — it  is  she!     She  of  whom 
he  had  scarce  thought  before  to-night.      Had  I 
been  free,  I  know  well  whom  he  had  chosen. — 
Aye,  free ! 

[Bengt  and  Guests,  both  Men  and  Women, 
enter  from   the  house. 

Young  Men  and  Maidens. 
Out  here,  out  here  be  the  feast  arrayed. 
While   the   birds    are   asleep    in   the    greenwood 

shade. 
How  sweet  to  sport  in  the  flowery  glade 
'Neath  the  birches. 

Out  here,  out  here,  shall  be  mirth  and  jest, 
No  sigh  on  the  lips  and  no  care  in  the  breast, 
Allien  the  fiddle  is  tuned  at  the  dancers'  'best, 
'Neath  the  birches. 


258  THE      FEAST      AT      S  O  L II O  U  G.       [aCT    II. 


Bkngt. 

That  is  wellj  that  is  well !  So  I  fain  would 
see  it!  I  am  merry,  and  my  wife  likewise;  and 
therefore  I  pray  ye  all  to  be  merry  along  with 
us. 

One  of  the  Guests. 

AyCj  now  let  us  liave  a  stave-match.^ 

Many. 
[Shout.]      Yes,  yes,  a  stave-match! 

Another  Guest. 

Nay,  let  that  be;  it  leads  but  to  strife  at  the 
feast.  [Lowering  his  I'oice.]  Bear  in  mind  that 
Knut  Gesling  is  with  us  to-night. 

Several. 

[Whispering  among  themselves.]  Aye,  aye, 
that  is  true.  Remember  the  last  time,  how  he — . 
Best  beware. 

An   Old  Man. 

But  you,  Dame  Margit — I  know  your  kin  had 
ever  wealth  of  tales  in  store;  and  you  yourself, 
even  as  a  child,  knew  many  a  fair  legend. 

Margit. 

Alas !  I  have  forgot  them  all.  But  ask  Gud- 
mund  Alfson,  my  kinsman ;  he  knows  a  tale  that 
is  merry  enough. 

*  A  contest  in  impromptu  verse-making. 


ACT    II.]      THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.  259 


GUDMUND. 

[In  a  low  voice,  imploringly.]     Margit! 

Margit. 

Why,  what  a  pitiful  countenance  you  put  on ! 
Be  merry,  Gudmund !  Be  merry !  Aye,  aye,  it 
comes  easy  to  you,  well  I  wot.  [Laughing,  to 
the  Guests.]  He  lias  seen  the  huldra  to-night. 
She  would  fain  have  tempted  him ;  but  Gudmund 
is  a  faithful  swain.  [Turns  again  to  Gud- 
mund.] Aye,  but  the  tale  is  not  finished  yet. 
When  you  bear  away  your  lady-love,  over  hill 
and  through  forest,  be  sure  you  turn  not  round; 
be  sure  you  never  look  back — the  huldra  sits 
laughing  behind  every  bush;  and  when  all  is 
done —  [In  a  low  voice,  coming  close  up  to 
him]  — you  will  go  no  further  than  she  will 
let  you.      [She  crosses  to  the  right.] 

SiGNE. 

Oh,  God!     Oh,  God! 

Bengt. 

[Goiyig  around  among  the  Guests  in  high  con- 
tentment.] Ha,  ha,  ha!  Dame  Margit  knows 
how  to  set  the  mirth  afoot !  When  slie  takes  it 
in  hand,  she  does  it  much  better  than  I. 

Gudmund. 

[To  himself.]  She  threatens!  I  must  tear 
the  last  hope  out  of  her  breast;  else  will  peace 
never  come  to  her  mind.     [Turns  to  the  Guests.] 


260  THE     FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.      [aCT    II. 


I  mind  me  of  a  little  song.     If  it  please  you  to 
hear  it — 

Several   of   the   Guests. 

Thanks,  thanks,  Gudmimd  Alfson ! 

[They  close  around  him,  some  sitting, 
others  standing.  Margit  leans  against 
a  tree  in  front  on  the  right.  Signe 
stands  on  the  left,  near  the  house. 

GUDMUNIX 

[Sings.] 

I  rode  into  the  wildwood, 

I  sailed  across  the  sea, 
But  'twas  at  home  I  wooed  and  won 

A  maiden  fair  and  free. 

It  was  the  Queen  of  Elfland, 
She  waxed  full  wroth  and  grim: 

Never,  she  swore,  shall  that  maiden  fair 
Ride  to  the  church  with  him. 

Hear  me,  thou  Queen  of  Elfland. 

Vain,  vain  are  threat  and  spell; 
For  naught  can  sunder  two  true  hearts 

That  love  each  other  well ! 

An  Old  Man. 

That  is  a  right  fair  song.  See  how  the  young 
swains  cast  their  glances  thitherward!  [Point- 
ing towards  the  Girls.]  Aye,  aye,  doubtless 
each  has  his  own. 


act  ii.]     the    feast    at    solhoug.         26 1 

Bengt. 

[Making  eyes  at  Margit.]  Yes,  I  have  mine, 
that  is  sure  enough.     Ha,  ha,  ha ! 

Margit. 

[To  herself,  quivering.]  To  have  to  suffer 
all  this  shame  and  scorn  !  No,  no ;  now  to  essay 
the  last  remedy ! 

Bengt. 
What  ails  you?     Meseems  you  look  so  pale. 

Margit. 

'Twill  soon  pass  over.  [Turns  to  the  Guests.] 
Did  I  say  e'en  now  that  I  had  forgotten  all  my 
tales .''     I  bethink  me  now  that  I  remember  one. 

Bengt. 
Good,  good,  my  wife !     Come,  let  us  hear  it. 

Young  Girls. 

[Urgently.]  Yes,  tell  it  us,  tell  it  us.  Dame 
Margit ! 

Margit. 

I  almost  fear  that  'twill  little  please  you;  but 
that  must  be  as  it  may. 

Gudmund. 

[To  himself.]  Saints  in  heaven,  surely  she 
would  not — ! 


2o2  THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG. 


Margit. 


It  was  a  fair  and  noble  maid, 

She  dwelt  in  her  father's  hall; 

Both  linen  and  silk  did  she  broider  and  braid. 

Yet  found  in  it  solace  small. 

For  she  sat  there  alone  in  cheerless  state, 

Empty  were  hall  and  bower; 

In  the  pride  of  her  heart,  she  was  fain  to  mate 

With  a  chieftain  of  pelf  and  power. 

But  now  'twas  the  Hill  King,  he  rode  from  the 

north. 
With  his  henchmen  and  his  gold; 
On  the  third  day  at  night  he  in  triumph  fared 

forth. 
Bearing  her  to  his  mountain  hold. 
Full  many  a  summer  she  dwelt  in  the  hill; 
Out  of  beakers  of  gold  she  could  drink  at  her 

will. 
Oh,  fair  arc  the  flowers  of  the  valley,  I  trow. 
But  only  in  dreams  can  she  gather  them  now! 
'Twas  a  youth,  right  gentle  and  bold  to  boot. 
Struck  his  harp  with  such  magic  might 
That  it  rang  to  the  mountain's  inmost  root. 
Where  she  languished  in  the  night. 
The  sound  in  her  soul  waked  a  wondrous  mood — 
Wide  open  the  mountain-gates  seemed  to  stand; 
The  peace  of  God  lay  over  the  land. 
And  she  saw  how  it  all  was  fair  and  good. 
There  had  happened  what  never  had  happened 

before ; 
She    had    wakened    to   life    as    his    harp-strings 

thrilled; 
And  her  eyes  were  o])ened  to  all  the  store 
Of  treasure  wherewith  the  good  earth  is  filled. 


ACT    II.]      THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.  263 


For  mark  this  well:  it  hath  ever  been  found 
That  those  who  in  caverns  deep  lie  bound 
Are  lightly  freed  by  the  harp's  glad  sound. 
He  saw  her  prisoned,  he  heard  her  wail — 
But  he  cast  unheeding  his  harp  aside. 
Hoisted  straightway  his  silken  sail, 
And  sped  away  o'er  the  waters  wide 
To  stranger  strands  with  his  new-found  bride. 

[With  ever-increasing  passion. 

So  fair  was  thy  touch  on  the  golden  strings 
That  my  breast  heaves  high  and  my  spirit  sings  ! 
I  must  out,  I  must  out  to  the  sweet  green  leas ! 
I  die  in  the  Hill-King's  fastnesses ! 
He  mocks  at  my  woe  as  he  clasps  his  bride 
And  sails  away  o'er  the  waters  wide ! 

[Shrieks. 

With  me  all  is  over ;  my  hill-prison  barred ; 
Unsunned  is  the  day,  and  the  night  all  unstarred. 

[She  totters  and,  fainting,  seeJcs  to  support 
herself  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree. 

SiGNi:. 

[Weeping,   has   rushed   up   to   her,  and   takes 
her  in  her  aryns.]     Margit !     My  sister! 

GUDMUND. 

[At  the  same  time,  supporting  /ler. ]      Help! 
Help !  she  is  dying ! 

[Bengt  and  the  Guests  flock  round  them 
with  cries  of  alarm. 


ACT    THIRD 

The  hall  at  Solhoug  as  before,  but  now  in  dis- 
order after  the  feast.  It  is  night  still,  but 
with  a  glimmer  of  approaching  dawn  in  the 
room  and  over  the  landscape  without. 

Bengt  stands  outside  in  the  passage-way,  with 
a  beaker  of  ale  in  his  hand.  A  party  of 
Guests  are  in  the  act  of  leaving  the  house. 
In  the  room  a  Maid-Servant  is  restoring 
order. 

Bengt. 
[Calls  to  the  departing  Guests.]  God  speed 
you,  then,  and  bring  you  back  ere  long  to  Sol- 
houg. Methinks  you,  like  the  rest,  might  have 
stayed  and  slept  till  morning.  Well,  well !  Yet 
hold — I'll  e'en  go  with  you  to  the  gate.  I  must 
drink  your  healths  once  more.         [He  goes  out. 

Guests. 
[Sing  in  the  distance.] 
Farewell,  and  God's  blessing  on  one  and  all 

Beneath  this  roof  abiding! 
The  road  must  be  faced.     To  the  fiddler  we  call: 
Tune  up !     Our  cares  deriding. 
With  dance  and  with  song 
We'll  shorten  the  way  so  weary  and  long. 
Right  merrily  off  we  go. 

[The  song  dies  away  in  the  distance. 
[Marqit  enters  the  hall  by  the  door  an  the 
right. 

264 


act  iii.]    the    fea3t    at    solhoug.       265 

Maid. 
God  save  us,  ray  lady,  have  you  left  j'our  bed  ? 

Margit. 
I   am   well.      Go   you   and   sleep.      Stay — tell 
me,  are  the  guests  all  gone.'' 

Maid. 
No,  not  all;  some  wait  till  later  in  the  day; 
ere  now  they  are  sleeping  sound. 

Margit. 
And  Gudmund  Alfson — ? 

Maid. 
He,  too,  is  doubtless  asleep.      [Points  to  the 
right.]       'Tis   some   time    since   he   went   to   his 
chamber — yonder,  across  the  passage. 

Margit. 
Good;  you  may  go. 

[The  Maid  goes  out  to  the  left. 
[Margit  walks  slowly  across  the  hall,  seats 
herself  by  the  table  on  the  right,  and 
gazes  out  at  the  open  windotv. 

Margit. 
To-morrow,  then,  Gudmund  will  ride  away 
Out  into  the  world  so  great  and  wide. 
Alone  with  my  husband  here  I  must  stay; 
And  well  do  I  know  what  will  then  betide. 
Like  the  broken  branch  and  the  trampled  flower 
I  shall  suffer  and  fade  from  liour  to  hour. 


266        THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.      [acT    III. 


[Short  pause;  she  leans  back  in  her  chair. 
I  once  henrd  a  tale  of  a  child  blind  from  birth. 
Whose  childhood  was  full  of  joy  and  mirth; 
For  the  mother,  with  spells  of  magic  might, 
Wove  for  the  dark  eyes  a  world  of  light. 
And  the  child  looked  forth  with  wonder  and  glee 
Upon  valley  and  hill,  upon  land  and  sea. 
Then  suddenly  the  witchcraft  failed — 
The  child  once  more  was  in  darkness  pent; 
Good-bye  to  games  and  merriment; 
With  longing  vain  the  red  cheeks  paled. 
And  its  wail  of  woe,  as  it  pined  away. 
Was  ceaseless,  and  sadder  than  words  can  say. — 
Oh !  like  that  child's  my  ej^es  were  sealed. 
To  the  light  and  the  life  of  summer  blind — 

[She  springs  up. 
But  now — !     And  I  in  this  cage  confined! 
No,  now  is  the  worth  of  my  youth  revealed ! 
Three  years  of  life  I  on  him  have  spent — 
My  husband — but  were  I  longer  content 
This  hapless,  hopeless  weird  to  dree. 
Meek  as  a  dove  I  needs  must  be, 
I  am  wearied  to  death  of  petty  brawls; 
The  stirring  life  of  the  great  world  calls. 
I  will  follow  Gudmund  Avith  shield  and  bow, 
I  will  share  his  joys,  I  will  soothe  his  woe, 
W^atch  o'er  him  both  by  night  and  day. 
All  that  behold  shall  envy  the  life 
Of  the  valiant  knight  and  Margit  his  wife. — 
His  wife  !  [  Wrings  her  hands. 

Oh  God,  what  is  this  I  say  ! 
Forgive  me,  forgive  me,  and  oh !  let  me  feel 
The  peace  that  hath  power  both  to  soothe  and  to 
heal. 


ACT    III.]       THE      FEAST      AT      S  O  L  H  O  U  G.  267 


[JValJcs  back  and  forward,  brooding  silently. 

Signe,  my  sister — ?     How  hateful  'twere 
To  steal  her  glad  young  life  from  her ! 
But  who  can  tell?     In  very  sooth 
She   may   love   him   but   witli   the   light   love   of 
youth. 

[Agaiii  silence;  she  talces  out  the  little 
phial,  looks  long  at  it  and  says  under 
her  breath: 

This  phial — were  I  its  powers  to  try — 
My  husband  would  sleep  for  ever  and  aye ! 

[Horror-struck. 

No,  no !     To  the  river's  deptlis  with  it  straight ! 
[In  the  act  of  throwing  it  out  of  the  win- 
dow, stops. 
And  yet  I  could — 'tis  not  yet  too  late. — 

[With  an  expression  of  mingled  horror  and 
rapture,  whispers. 

With  what  a  magic  resistless  might 
Sin  masters  us  in  our  own  despite ! 
Doubly  alluring  methinks  is  the  goal 
I  must  reach  through  blood,  with  the  wreck  of 
my  soul. 

[Bengt,  with  the  empty  beaker  in  his  hand, 
comes  in  from  the  passage-way ;  his 
face  is  red;  he  staggers  slightly. 

Bengt. 

[Flinging  the  beaker  upon  the  table  on  the 
left.]  My  faith,  tliis  lias  been  a  feast  that  will 
be    the    talk    of    the    country.       [Sees    Margit.] 


268         THE      FKAST      AT      S  O  L  H  O  U  G.       [aCT    III. 

Eh^  are  you  there?     You  are  well  again.     Good, 
good. 

Margit. 
[Who    in    the    meantime    has    concealed    the 
phial.]      Is  the  door  barred? 

Bengt. 
[Seating  himself  at  the  table  on  the  left.]  I 
have  seen  to  everything.  I  went  with  the  last 
guests  as  far  as  the  gates.  But  what  became 
of  Knut  Gesling  to-night  ? — Give  me  mead,  Mar- 
git !     I  am  thirsty.     Fill  this  cup. 

[Margit  fetches  a  flagon  of  mead  from  a 
cupboard,  and  fills  the  goblet  which  is 
on  the  table  in  front  of  him. 

Margit. 
[Crossing  to  the  right  rvith  the  flagon.]     You 
asked  about  Knut  Gesling. 

Bengt. 
That  I   did.      The  boaster,  the  braggart !      I 
have  not  forgot  his  threats  of  yester-morning. 

Margit. 
He  used  worse  words  when  he  left  to-night. 

Bengt. 
He  did?     So  much  the  better.     I  will  strike 
him  dead. 

Margit. 
[Smiling  contemptuously.]      H'm — 


A  C  T    1 1 1.  ]       THE      F  K  A  S  T      AT      S  O  L  H  O  U  G.  269 


Bengt. 
I  will  kill  him,  I  say  !  I  fear  not  to  face  ten 
such  fellows  as  he.  In  the  store-house  hangs  my 
grandfather's  axe;  its  shaft  is  inlaid  with  sil- 
ver; with  that  axe  in  my  hands,  I  tell  you — ! 
[Thumps  the  table  and  drinks.]  To-morrow  I 
shall  arm  myself,  go  forth  with  all  my  men,  and 
slay  Knut  Gesling.  [Empties  the  beaker. 

Margit. 
[To  herself.]     Oh,  to  have  to  live  with  him! 
[Is  in  the  act  of  leaving  the  room. 

Bengt. 
Margit,  come  here !     Fill  my  cup  again.     [She 
approaches;  he  tries  to  draw  her  down  on  to  his 
knee.]      Ha,  ha,  ha!     You  are  right  fair,  Mar- 
git !     I  love  you  well ! 

Margit. 
[Freeing  herself.]     Let  me  go! 

[Crosses,   with   the   goblet   in   her   hand,   to 
the  left. 

Bengt. 
You  are  not  in  the  humour  to-night.     Ha,  ha, 
ha !     That  means  no  great  matter,  I  know. 

Margit. 

[Softly,  as  she  fills  the  goblet.]  Oh,  that 
this  might  be  the  last  beaker  I  should  fill  for 
you. 

[She  leaves  the  goblet  on   the  table  and  is 
making  her  way  out  to  the  left. 


270        THE      FEAST     AT     S  O  L  H  O  U  G.      [aCT    III. 


Bengt. 


Hark  to  me,  Margit.  For  one  thing  you  may 
thank  Heaven,  and  that  is,  that  I  made  you  my 
wife  before  Gudmund  Alfson  came  back. 

Margit. 
[Stops  at  the  door.]     Why  so? 

Bengt. 

Why,  say  you  ?  Am  not  I  ten  times  the  richer 
man  ?  And  certain  I  am  that  he  would  have 
sought  you  for  his  wife,  had  you  not  been  the 
mistress  of  Solhoug. 

Margit. 

[Drawing  nearer  and  glancing  at  the  goblet.] 
Say  you  so.'' 

Bengt. 

I  could  take  my  oath  upon  it.  Bengt  Gaute- 
son  has  two  sharp  eyes  in  his  head.  But  he 
may  still  have  Signe. 

Margit. 
And  you  think  he  will — ? 

Bengt. 

Take  her?  Aye,  since  he  cannot  have  you. 
But  had  you  been  free, — then —  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 
Gudmund  is  like  the  rest.  He  envies  me  my 
wife.  That  is  why  I  set  such  store  by  you, 
Margit.  Here  with  the  goblet  again.  And  let 
it  be  full  to  the  brim! 


ACT    III.]       THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.  271 


Margit. 

[Goes  unwillingly  acioss  to  the  right.]  You 
shall  have  it  straightway. 

Bengt, 

Knut  Gesling  is  a  suitor  for  Signe,  too,  but 
him  I  am  resolved  to  slay.  Gudmund  is  an  hon- 
ourable man ;  he  shall  have  her.  Think,  Margit, 
what  good  days  we  shall  have  with  them  for 
neighbours.  We  Avill  go  a-visiting  each  other, 
and  then  will  we  sit  the  live-long  day,  each 
with  his  wife  on  his  knee,  drinking  and  talking 
of  this  and  of  that. 

Margit. 

[Whose  menial  struggle  is  visibly  becoming 
more  severe,  involuntarily  takes  out  the  phial  as 
she  says:]     No  doubt,  no  doubt! 

Bengt. 

Ha,  ha,  ha  !  it  may  be  that  at  first  Gudmund 
will  look  askance  at  me  when  I  take  you  in  my 
arms ;  but  that,  I  doubt  not,  he  will  soon  get 
over. 

Margit. 

This  is  more  than  Avoman  can  bear!  [Pours 
the  contents  of  the  phial  into  the  goblet,  goes  to 
the  window  and  throws  out  the  phial,  then  says, 
without  looking  at  him.]      Your  beaker  is  full. 

Bengt, 
Then  brintr  it  hitlier  ! 


272         THE      FEAST      AT      S  O  L  H  O  U  G.       [aCT    III. 


Margit. 
[Battling  in  an   agony  of  indecision,  at   last 
says,]     I  pray  you  drink  no  more  to-night! 

Bengt. 
[Leans  back  in  his  chair  and  laughs.]     Oho! 
You  are  impatient  for  my  coming?     Get  you  in; 
I  will  follow  you  soon. 

Margit. 
[Suddenly    decided.]      Your    beaker    is    full. 
[Points.]      There   it  is. 

[She  goes  quickly  out  to  the  left. 

Bengt. 
[Rising.]      I   like   her   well.      It   repents   me 
not  a  whit  that  I   took  her  to  wife,  though  of 
heritage  she  owned  no  more  than  yonder  goblet 
and  the  brooches  of  her  wedding  gown. 

[He  goes   to  the  table  at   the  window   and 

takes  the  goblet. 
[A  House-Carl  enters  hurriedly  and  with 
scared  looks,  from  the  back. 

House-Carl. 
[Calls.]      Sir  Bengt,  Sir  Bengt!  haste  forth 
with  all  the  speed  you  can !     Knut  Gesling  with 
an  armed  train  is  drawing  near  the  house. 

Bengt. 
[Putting  down   the  goblet.]      Knut  Gesling? 
Who  brings  the  tidings  ? 


act  iii.]     the    feast    at    s  o  l  h  o  u  g.       273 

House-Carl. 

Some  of  your  guests  espied  him  on  the  road 
beneath,  and  hastened  back  to  warn  you. 

Bengt. 

E'en    so.      Then    will    I — !      Fetch    me    my 
grandfather's  battle-axe ! 

[He  and  the  House-Carl  go  out  at  the 
back. 

[Soon  after,  Gudmund  and  Signe  enter 
quietly  and  cautiously  by  the  door  on 
the  right. 

Siqne. 
[In  muffled  tones.^ 
It  must,  then,  be  so! 


Gudmund. 

[Also  softly.] 

Necessity's  might 
Constrains  us. 

Signe. 

Oh !  thus  under  cover  of  night 
To  steal  from  the  valley  where  I  was  born ! 

[Dries  her  eyes. 

Yet  shalt  thou  hear  no  plaint  forlorn. 
'Tis  for  thy  sake  my  home  I  flee; 
Wert  thou  not  outlawed,  Gudmund  dear, 
I'd  stay  with  my  sister. 


274         THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.       [aCTIII. 


GUDMUND. 


Only  to  be 
Ta'en  by  Knut  Gesling,  with  bow  and  spear. 
Swung  on  the  croup  of  his  battle-horse. 
And  made  his  wife  bv  force. 


SiGNE. 

Quick,  let  us  flee.     But  whither  go.^ 

GuDMUND. 

Down  by  the  fiord  a  friend  I  know; 

He'll  find  us  a  ship.     O'er  the  salt  sea  foam 

We'll  sail  away  south  to  Denmark's  bowers. 

There  waits  you  there  a  happy  home ; 

Right  joyously  will  fleet  the  hours ; 

The  fairest  of  flowers  they  bloom  in  the  shade 

Of  the  beech-tree  glade. 

SiGNE. 

[Bursts  into  tears.] 

Farewell,  my  poor  sister !     Like  mother  tender 
Thou    hast    guarded    the    ways    my    feet    have 

trod, 
Hast  guided  my  footsteps,  aye  praying  to  God, 
The  Almighty,  to  be  my  defender.- — 
Gudmund — here  is  a  goblet  filled  with  mead; 
I-et  us  drink  to  her;  let  us  wish  that  ere  long 
Her  soul  may  again  be  calm  and  strong, 
And  that  God  may  be  good  to  her  need. 

[She  takes  the  goblet  into  her  hands. 


ACT    III.]      THE      FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.         275 


GUDMUND. 

Aye,  let  us  drain  it,  naming  her  name ! 

[Starts. 

Stop!  [Takes  the  goblet  from  her. 

For  meseems  it  is  the  same — 

SiGNE. 

'Tis  Margit's  beaker. 

GuDMUND. 

[Examining  it  carefully.^ 

By  Heaven,  'tis  so ! 
I  mind  me  still  of  the  red  wine's  glow 
As  she  drank  from  it  on  the  day  we  parted 
To  our  meeting  again  in  healtli  and  glad-hearted. 
To  herself  that  draught  betided  woe. 
No,  Signe,  ne'er  drink  wine  or  mead 
From  that  goblet. 

[Pours  its  contents  out  at  the  window. 

We  must  away  with  all  speed. 

[Tumult  and  calls  without,  at  the  back. 

Signe. 
List,  Gudmund !     Voices  and  trampling  feet! 

GuDMUND. 

Knut  Gesling's  voice! 

Signe. 
O  save  us.  Lord ! 


276        THE     FEAST     AT     SOLHOUG.      [aCT    III. 


GUDMUND. 

[Places  himself  in  front  of  her.] 

Nay,  nay,  fear  nothing,  Signe  sweet — 
I  am  here,  and  my  good  sword. 

[Margit  comes  in  in  haste  from  the  left. 

Margit. 

[Listening  to  the  noise.]  What  means  this? 
Is  my  husband — .'' 

GUDMUND    AND    SiGNE. 

Margit ! 

Margit. 

[Catches  sight  of  them.]  Gudmund!  And 
Signe !     Are  you  here  ? 

Signe. 
[Going  towards  her.]      Margit — dear  sister! 

Margit. 

[Appalled,  having  seen  the  goblet  which  Gud- 
mund still  holds  in  his  hand.]  The  goblet! 
Who  has  drunk  from  it.'' 

Gudmund. 

[Confused.]  Drunk — ?  I  and  Signe — we 
meant — 

Margit. 

[Screams.]  O  God,  have  mercy!  Help! 
Help  !     They  will  die  ! 


ACT    III.]      THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.  27  T 


GUDMUND. 

[Setting  down  the  goblet.]     Margit — ! 

SiGNE. 

What  ails  you,  sister? 

Margit. 

[  Towards  the  back.  ]  Help,  help  !  Will  no 
one  help? 

[A    House-Carl   rushes   in  from   the   pas- 
sage-way. 

House-Carl. 

[Calls  in  a  terrified  voice.]  Lady  Margit! 
Your  husband — ! 

Margit. 
He — has  he,  too,  drunk — ! 

GuDMUND. 

[To  himself.]     Ah!  now  I  understand — 

House-Carl. 
Knut  Gesling  has  slain  him. 

SiGNE. 

Slain! 

GuDMUND. 

[Drawing  his  sword.]  Not  yet,  I  hope. 
[Whispers  to  Margit.]  Fear  not.  No  one  has 
drunk  from  your  goblet. 


278         THE      FEAST     AT     S  O  L  H  O  U  G.      [acT    HI. 


Maugit. 
Then  thanks  be  to  God^  who  has  saved  us  all ! 

[She  sinks  down  on  a  chair  to  the  left. 
GuDMUND  hastens  towards  the  door  at 
the  hack. 

Another  House-Carl. 
[Enters,  stopping  him.^      You  come  too  late. 
Sir  Bengt  is  dead. 

GuDMUND. 

Too  late,  then,  too  late. 

House-Carl. 
The    guests    and    your    men    have    prevailed 
against  the  murderous  crew.     Knut  Gesling  and 
his  men  are  prisoners.     Here  they  come. 

[Gudmund's  men,  and  a  number  of  Guests 
and  House-Carls,  lead  in  Knut  Ges- 
ling, Erik  of  Hegge,  and  several  of 
Knut's  vien,  hound. 

Knut. 
[Who   is  pale,   says   in   a   low   voice.]      Man- 
slayer,  Gudmund.     What  say  you  to  that? 

Gudmund. 
Knut,  Knut,  what  have  you  done? 

Erik. 
'Twas   a   mischance,  of  that   I   can  take   my 
oath. 


ACT    III.]       THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.  279 


Knut. 
He  ran  at  me  swinging  liis  axe;  I  meant  but 
to  defend  myself,  and  struck  the  death-blow  un- 
awares. 

Erik. 
Many  here  saw  all  that  befell. 

Knut. 
Lady  Margit,  crave  what  fine  you  will.     I  am 
ready  to  pay  it. 

Margit. 
I  crave  naught.     God  will  judge  us  all.     Yet 
stay — one  thing  I  require.     Forgo  your  evil  de- 
sign upon  my  sister. 

Knut. 
Never  again  shall  I  essay  to  redeem  my  bale- 
ful pledge.  From  this  day  onward  I  am  a  better 
man.  Yet  would  I  fain  escape  dishonourable 
punishment  for  my  deed.  [To  Gudmunu.] 
Should  you  be  restored  to  favour  and  place 
again,  say  a  good  word  for  me  to  the  King ! 

GUDMUND. 

I  ?      Ere  the   sun   sets,   I   must  have   left  the 
country. 

[Astonishme7it  amongst  the  Guests.     Erik 
in  whispers,  explains  the  situation. 

Margit. 
[To  Gudmunu.]      You  go?     And  Signe  with 
you? 


280         THE      FEAST      AT      S  O  L  H  O  U  G.       [aCT    III. 


SiGNE. 

[Beseechingly.]     Margit! 

Margit. 
Good  fortune  follow  you  both! 

SiGNE. 

[Flinging  her  arms  round  Margit's  neck.] 
Dear  sister ! 

GUDMUND. 

Margit,  I  thank  you.  And  now  farewell. 
[Listening.]  Hush!  I  hear  the  tramp  of  hoofs 
in  the  court-yard. 

SiGNE. 

[Apprehensively.]      Strangers  have  arrived. 

[A  House-Carl,  appears  in  the  doorway  at 
the  back. 

House-Carl. 

The  King's  men  are  without.  They  seek 
Gudmund  Alfson. 

SiGNE. 

Oh  God! 

Margit. 
[In  great  alarm.]      The  King's  men! 

Gudmund. 

All  is  at  an  end,  then.  Oh  Signe,  to  lose  you 
now — could  there  be  a  harder  fate.^* 


ACT    III.]       THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.  281 


Knut. 

Nay,  Gudmund;  sell  your  life  dearly,  man! 
Unbind  us;  we  are  ready  to  fight  for  you,  one 
and  all. 

Erik. 

[Looks  out.]  'Twould  be  in  vain;  they  are 
too  many  for  us. 

SiGNE. 

Here  they   come.     Oh  Gudmund,   Gudmund ! 
[The   King's   Messenger   enters  from   the 
back,  with  his  escort. 

Messenger. 

In  the  King's  name  I  seek  you,  Gudmund 
Alfson,  and  bring  you  his  behests. 

Gudmund. 

Be  it  so.  Yet  am  I  guiltless ;  I  swear  it  by 
all  that  is  holy ! 

Messenger. 
We  know  it. 

Gudmund. 
What  say  you? 

[Agitation  amongst  those  present. 

Messenger. 

I  am  ordered  to  bid  you  as  a  guest  to  the 
King's  house.  His  friendship  is  yours  as  it 
was  before,  and  along  with  it  he  bestows  on  you 
rich  fiefs. 


282         THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.       [aCT    III. 
GUDMUND. 

Signe ! 

SiGNE. 

Gudmund ! 

GuDMUND. 

But  tell  me — ? 

Messenger. 
Your  enemy,  the  Chancellor  Audun  Hugleik- 
son,  has  fallen. 

Gudmund. 
The  Chancellor ! 

Guests. 
[To  each  other,  in  a  half-whisper.]     Fallen! 

Messenger. 
Three  days  ago  he  was  beheaded  at  Bergen. 
[Lowei'ing  his  voice.]      His  offence  was  against 
Norway's  Queen. 

Margit. 
[Placing  herself  betrveen  Gudmund  and  Signe.] 
Thus  punishment  treads  on  tlie  heels  of  crime ! 
Protecting  angels,  loving  and  bright, 
Have  looked  down  in  mercy  on  me  to-night, 
And  come  to  my  rescue  while  yet  it  was  time. 
Now  know  I  that  life's  most  precious  treasure 
Is  nor  worldly  wealth  nor  earthly  pleasure, 
I  have  felt  the  remorse,  the  terror  I  know, 
Of  those  who  wantonly  peril  their  soul, 
To  St.  Sunniva's  cloister  forthwith  I  go. — 

[Before  Gudmund  and  Signe:  can  speak. 
Nay :  think  not  to  move  me  or  control. 


ACT    III.]       THE      FEAST      AT      SOLHOUG.  283 

[Places  Signe's  hand  in  Gudmund's. 

Take  her  then,  Gudmund,  and  make  her  your 
bride. 

Your  union  is  holy;  God's  on  your  side. 

[Waving  farewell,  she  goes  towards  the 
doorway  on  the  left.  Guumund  ajid 
SiGNE  follow  her,  she  stops  them  with 
a  motion  of  her  hand,  goes  out,  and 
shuts  the  door  behind  her.  At  this 
moment  the  sun  rises  and  sheds  its 
light  into  the  hall. 

Gudmund. 
Signe — my  wife  !     See,  the  morning  glow ! 
'Tis  the  morning  of  our  young  love.     Rejoice! 

SiGNE. 

All  my  fairest  of  dreams  and  of  memories  I  owe 
To  the  strains  of  thy  harp  and  the  sound  of  thy 

voice. 
My  noble  minstrel,  to  joy  or  sadness 
Tune  thou  that  harp  as  seems  thee  best; 
There  are  chords,  believe  me,  within  my  breast 
To  answer  to  thine,  or  of  woe  or  of  gladness. 

Chorus  of   Men  and  Women. 
Over  earth  keeps  watch  the  eye  of  light, 
Guardetli  lovingly  the  good  man's  ways, 
Slieddeth  round  him  its  consoling  rays; — 
Praise  be  to  the  Lord  in  heaven's  height! 


LOVE'S   COMEDY 


PERSONS   OF  THE   COMEDY 
Mhs.  Halm,  widoiv  of  a  government  official. 

SVANHILD,     )   ,         J  ,j 

.  Y  her  dauqnters. 

Anna,  ) 

Falk,  a  younq  author,       )  ,      ,       ■, 
T  ,•   ••,      ,    7     ,    \her  boarders. 

JLiND,  a  divinity  student,   ) 

GuLDSTAD,  a  wholesale  merchant. 

Stiver,  a  law-clerk. 

Mlss  Jay,  his  fiancee. 

Strawman,  a  country  clergyman. 

Mrs.  Strawman,  his  wife. 

Students,  Guests,  Married  and  Plighted  Pairs, 

The  Strawmans'  Eight  Little  Girls. 

Four  Aunts,  a  Porter,  Domestic  Servants. 


Scene. — Mrs.  Halm's  Villa  on  the  Drammensvejen  ai 
Christiania. 


LOVE'S    COMEDY 

PLAY  IN  THREE  ACTS 


ACT    FIRST 


The  Scene  represents  a  pretty  garden  irregu- 
larly hut  tastefully  laid  out;  in  the  back- 
ground are  seen  the  fjord  and  the  islands. 
To  the  left  is  the  house,  with  a  verandah 
and  an  open  dormer  window  above;  to  the 
right  in  the  foreground  an  open  summer- 
house  with  a  table  and  benches.  The  land- 
scape lies  in  bright  afternoon  sunshine.  It 
is  early  summer;  the  fruit-trees  are  in 
flower. 

When  the  Curtain  rises,  Mrs.  Halm,  Anna, 
and  Miss  Jay  are  sitting  on  the  verandah, 
the  first  two  engaged  i)i  embroidery,  the 
last  with  a  book.  In  the  summer-house  are 
seen  Falk,  Lind,  Guldstad,  and  Stiver: 
a  punch-bowl  and  glasses  are  on  the  table. 
SvANHiLD  sits  alone  in  the  background  by 
the  water. 

Falk   [rises,  lifts  his  glass,  and  sings^. 
Sun-glad   day  in   garden   sliady 

Was  but  made  for  tliy  delight: 
What  though  promises  of  May-day 
Be  annulled  by  Autumn's  blight? 
287 


288  love's    comedy. 


Apple-blossom  white  and  splendid 
Drapes  thee  in  its  glowing  tent, — 

Let  it,  then,  when  day  is  ended. 
Strew  the  closes  storm-besprent. 

Chorus  of  Gentlemen. 
Let  it,  then,  when  day  is  ended,  etc. 

Falk. 

Wherefore  seek  the  harvest's  guerdon 

While  the  tree  is  yet  in  bloom.'' 
Wherefore  drudge  beneath  the  burden 

Of  an  unaccomplished  doom.'' 
Wherefore  let  the  scarecrow  clatter 

Day  and  night  upon  the  tree.'' 
Brothers  mine,  the  sparrows'  chatter 

Has  a  cheerier  melody. 

Chorus. 
Brothers   mine,  the  sparrow's  chatter,  ete 

Falk. 
Happy  songster  !     Wherefore  scare  him 

From  our  blossom-laden  bower."* 
Rather  for  his  music  spare  him 

All  our  future,  flower  by  flower; 
Trust  me,  'twill  be  cheaply  buying 

Present  song  with  future  fruit; 
List  the  proverb,  "  Time  is  flying; — " 

Soon  our  garden  music's  mute. 

Chorus. 
List  the  proverb,  etc. 


ACTi.l  love's     comedy.  289 


Falk. 

I  will  live  in  song  and  gladness, — 

Then,  when  every  bloom  is  shed. 
Sweep  together,  scarce  in  sadness. 

All  that  glory,  wan  and  dead: 
Fling  the  gates  wide !     Bruise  and  batter. 

Tear  and  trample,  hoof  and  tusk; 
I  have  plucked  the  flower,  what  matter 

Who  devours  the  withered  husk! 

Chorus. 

I  have  plucked  the  flower,  etc. 

l^They  clink  and  empty  their  glasses. 

Falk  [to  the  ladies]. 

There — that's  the  song  you  asked  me  for;  but 

pray 
Be  lenient  to  it — I  can't  think  to-day. 

GULDSTAD. 

Oh,    never    mind    the    sense — the    sound's    the 
thing. 

Miss  Jay   [looking  round]. 

But  Svanhild,  who  was  eagerest  to  hear — ? 
When  Falk  began,  she  suddenly  took  wing 
And  vanished — 

Anna   [pointing  towards  the  back]. 

No,  for  there  she  sits — I  see  her. 


290  love's    comedy.  [acti. 


Mrs.  Halm    [sighing]. 

That  child !     Heaven  knows,  she's  j^ast  my  com- 
prehending ! 

Miss  Jay. 

But,  Mr.  Falk,  I  thought  the  lyric's  ending 
Was  not  so  rich  in — well,  in  poetry, 
As  others  of  the  stanzas  seemed  to  be. 

Stiver. 

Why  yes,  and  I  am  sure  it  could  not  tax 
Your  powers  to  get  a  little  more  inserted — 

Falk   [clinking  glasses  with  him]. 

You  cram  it  in,  like  putty  into  cracks. 
Till  lean  is  into  streaky  fat  converted. 


Stiver   [unruffled]. 

Yes,  nothing  easier — I,  too,  in  my  day 
Could  do  the  trick. 


GULDSTAD, 

Dear  me!     Were  you  a  poet? 

Miss  Jay. 
My  Stiver !     Yes  ! 

Stiver. 

Oh,  in  a  humble  way. 


;ti.  ]  love's     comedy,  291 


Miss  Jay    [to  the  ladies]. 
His  nature  is  romantic. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Yes,  we  know  it. 

Stiver. 
Not  now;  it's  ages  since  I  turned  a  rhyme. 

Falk. 

Yes,  varnish  and  romance  go  off  with  time. 
But  in  the  old  days — ? 

Stiver. 

Well,  you  see,  'twas  when 
I  was  in  love. 

Falk. 

Is  that  time  over,  then  ? 
Have  you  slept  off  the  sweet  intoxication  ? 

Stiver. 

I'm  now  engaged — I  hold  official  station — 
That's  better  than  in  love,  I  apprehend! 

Falk. 

Quite   so !      You're   in    the    right,    my   good    old 

friend. 
The  worst  is  past — vous  voila  bien  avance — 
Promoted   from  mere  lover  to  fiance. 


292  love's    comedy.  [acti. 


Stiver    [with  a  smile  of  complacent  recol- 
lection]. 

It's  strange  to  think  of  it — -upon  my  word, 
I  half  suspect  my  memory  of  lying — 

[Turns  to  Falk. 
But  seven  years  ago — it  sounds  absurd  ! — 
I  wasted  office  hours  in  versifying. 

Falk. 
What!     Office  hours—! 

Stiver. 
Yes,   such   were   my   transgressions. 

GuLDSTAD    [ringing  on  his  glass]. 
Silence  for  our  solicitor's  confessions  1 

Stiver. 
But  chiefly  after  five,  when  I  was  free, 
I'd  rattle  off  whole  reams  of  poetry — 
Ten — fifteen  folios  ere  I  went  to  bed — 

Falk. 

I  see — you  gave  your  Pegasus  his  head. 
And  off  he  tore — 

Stiver. 
On  stamped  or  unstamped  paper — 
'Twas    all   the   same    to   him — he'd    prance    and 
caper — 

Falk. 
The  spring  of  poetry  flowed  no  less  flush? 
But  how,  pray,  did  j^ou  teach  it  first  to  gush? 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  293 


Stiver. 
By  aid  of  love's  divining-rod,  my  friend! 
Miss  Jay  it  was  that  tauglit  me  where  to  bore. 
My  fancee — she  became  so  in  the  end — 
For  then  she  was — 

Falk. 
Your  love  and  nothing  more. 

Stiver  [continuing]. 
'Twas  a  strange  time;  I  could  not  read  a  bit; 
I  tuned  my  pen  instead  of  pointing  it; 
And  when  along  the  foolscap  slieet  it  raced, 
It  twangled  music  to  the  words  I  traced; — 
At  last  by  letter  I  declared  my  flame 
To  her — to  her — 

Falk. 
Wliose  fiance  you  became. 

Stiver. 
In  course  of  post  her  answer  came  to  hand — 
The  motion  granted — j  udgment  in  my  favour  ! 

Falk. 
And  you  felt  bigger,  as  you  wrote,  and  braver, 
To    find    vou'd    brought    your    venture    safe    to 
land! 

Stiver. 
Of  course. 

Falk. 
And  then  you  bade  the  Muse  farewell? 


294  love's    comedy.  [act 


Stiver. 
I've  felt  no  lyric  impulse,  truth  to  tell, 
From    that    day    forth.      My    vein    appeared    to 

peter 
Entirely  out;  and  now,  if  I  essay 
To  turn  a  verse  or  two  for  New  Year's  Day, 
I  make  the  veriest  hash  of  rliyme  and  metre, 
And — I've  no  notion  what  the  cause  can  be — 
It  turns  to  law  and  not  to  poetry. 

GuLDSTAD    [clinks  glasses  rvith  him]. 
And,  trust   me,    you're   no   whit   the    worse    for 
that!  [To  Falk. 

You  think  the  stream  of  life  is  flowing  solely 
To  bear  you  to  the  goal  you're  aiming  at — 
But  you  may  find  yourself  mistaken  wholly. 
As  for  your  song,  perhaps  it's  most  poetic. 
Perhaps  it's  not — on  that  point  we  wont  quar- 
rel— 
But  here  I  lodge  a  protest  energetic. 
Say  what  you  will,  against  its  wretched  moral. 
A  masterly  economy  and  new 
To  let  the  birds  play  havoc  at  their  pleasure 
Among  your   fruit-trees,   fruitless  now   for  you, 
And  suifer  flocks  and  herds  to  trample  through 
Your    garden,     and    lay    waste    its     springtide 

treasure ! 
A  pretty  prospect,  truly,  for  next  year ! 

Falk. 
Oh,  next,  next,  next !     The  thought  I  loathe  and 

fear 
That  these  four  letters  timidly  express — 
It  beggars  millionaires  in  happiness ! 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  295 


If  I  could  be  the  autocrat  of  speech 

But  for  one  hour^  that  hateful  word  I'd  banish; 

I'd  send  it  packing  out  of  mortal  reach, 

As  B  and  G  from  Knudsen's  Grammar  vanish. 

Stiver. 
Why  should  the  word  of  hope  enrage  you  thus  ? 

Falk. 

Because  it  darkens  God's  fair  earth  for  us. 

"  Next   year,"    "  next   love,"    "  next   life," — my 

soul  is   vext 
To  see  this  world  in  thraldom  to  "  the  next." 
'Tis     this     dull     forethought,     bent    on     future 

prizes. 
That  millionaires  in  gladness  pauperises. 
Far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  it  blurs  the  age; 
All  rapture  of  the  moment  it  destroys ; 
No  one  dares  taste  in  peace  life's  simplest  joys 
Until  he's  struggled  on  another  stage — 
And  there  arriving,  can  he  there  repose.'' 
No — to  a  new  "  next  "  off  he  flies  again; 
On,  on,  unresting,  to  the  grave  he  goes ; 
And  God  knows  if  there's  any  resting  then. 

Miss  Jay. 
Fie,  Mr.  Falk,  such  sentiments  are  shocking. 

Anna   [pensively]. 

Oh,  I  can  understand  the  feeling  quite; 
I  am  sure  at  bottom  Mr.   Falk  is  right. 


296  love's    comedy.  [acti. 


Miss  Jay   [perturbed]. 

My  Stiver  mustn't  listen  to  his  mocking. 
He's  rather  too   eccentric  even  now. — 
My  dear,  I  want  you. 

Stiver   [occupied  in  cleaning  his  pipe]. 
Presently,   my   dear. 

GULDSTAD    [to    FaLk]. 

One  thing  at  least  to  me  is  very  clear; — 
And  that  is  that  you  cannot  but  allow 
Some  forethought  indispensable.     For  see, 
Suppose  that  you  to-day  should  write  a  sonnet. 
And,    scorning    forethought,   you    should   lavish 

on  it 
Your  last  reserve,  your  all,  of  poetry, 
So  that,  to-morrow,  when  you  set  about 
Your     next     song,     you     should     find     yourself 

cleaned  out. 
Heavens !    how    your    friends    the    critics    then 
would  crow! 

Falk. 

D'you    think    they'd    notice    I    was    bankrupt.'' 

No! 
Once  beggared  of  ideas,  I  and  they 
Would  saunter  arm  in  arm  the  selfsame 

way —  [Breaking  off. 

But    Lind!   why,   what's   the    matter   with    you, 

pray? 
You   sit  there    dumb   and  dreaming — I   suspect 

you're 
Deep  in  the  mysteries  of  architecture. 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  297 

LiND    [collecting  himself]. 
I  ?     What  should  make  you  think  so  ? 

Falk, 

I  observe. 
Your  eyes  are  glued  to  the  verandah  yonder — ■ 
You're  studying,  mayhap,  its  arches'  curve, 
Or  can  it  be  its  pillars'  strength  you  ponder, 
The  door  perhaps,  with  hammered  iron  hinges? 
The  window  blinds,  and  their  artistic  fringes? 
From  something  there  your  glances  never  wan- 
der. 

LiND. 

No,    you    are    wrong — I'm    just    absorbed    in 

being — 
Drunk  with  the  hour — nauglit  craving,  naught 

foreseeing. 
I  feel  as  though  I  stood,  my  life  complete. 
With  all  earth's  riches  scattered  at  my  feet. 
Thanks  for  your  song  of  happiness  and  spring — 
From  out  my  inmost  heart  it  seemed  to  spring. 
[Lifts    his   glass   and   exchanges   a   glance, 

unobserved,  with  Anna. 
Here's  to  the  blossom  in  its  fragrant  pride ! 
What  reck  we  of  the  fruit  of  autumn-tide? 

[Empties  his  glass. 

Falk   [looks  at  him  with  surprise  and  emotion, 

hut  assumes  a  light  tone]. 
Behold,  fair  ladies !  though  you  scorn  me  quite, 
Here  I  have  made  an  easy  proselyte. 
His  hymn-book  yesterday  was  all  he  cared  for — 
To-day  e'en  dithyrambics  he's  prepared  for! 


298  love's    comedy.  [j 


We  poets  must  be  born,  cries  every  judge; 

But  prose-folks,  now  and   then,  like   Strasburg 

geese, 
Gorge  tliernselves   so  inhumanly  obese 
On  rhyming  balderdash  and  rhythmic  fudge. 
That,    when    cleaned    out,    their   very    souls    are 

thick 
With  lyric  lard  and  greasy  rhetoric. 

[To    LiND. 

Your  praise,  however,  I  shall  not  forget; 
We'll  sweep  the  lyre  henceforward  in  duet. 

Miss  Jay. 
You,  Mr.  Falk,  are  hard  at  work,  no  doubt. 
Here  in  these  rural  solitudes  delightful. 
Where  at  your  own  sweet  will  you  roam  about — 

Mrs.  Halm   [smiling]. 
Oh,  no,  his  laziness  is  something  frightful. 

Miss  Jay. 
What !   here   at   Mrs.    Halm's !    that's   most   sur- 
prising— 
Surely  it's  just  the  place  for  poetising — 

[Pointing  to  the  right. 
That  summer-house,  for  instance,  in  the  wood 
Sequestered,  name  me  any  place  that  could 
Be  more  conducive  to  poetic  mood — 

Falk. 
Let  blindness  veil  the  sunlight  from  mine  eyes, 
I'll  chant  the  splendour  of  the  sunlit  skies! 


;ti.]  love's     comedy,  299 


Just  for  a  season  let  me  beg  or  borrow 
A  great,  a  crushing,  a  stupendous  sorrow. 
And    soon   you'll    hear   my   hymns    of    gladness 

rise ! 
But   best.    Miss    Jay,   to    nerve    my    wings    for 

flight, 
Find  me  a  maid  to  be  my  life,  my  light — 
For     that     incitement     long     to     Heaven     I've 

pleaded; 
But  hitherto,  worse  luck,  it  hasn't  heeded. 


Miss  Jay. 
What  levity! 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Yes,   most  irreverent! 

Falk. 

Pray  don't  imagine  it  was  my  intent 

To  live  with  her  on  bread  and  cheese  and  kisses. 

No!  just  upon  the  threshold  of  our  blisses, 

Kind  Heaven  must  snatch  away  the  gift  it  lent. 

I  need  a  little  spiritual  gymnastic; 

The  dose  in  that  form  surely  would  be  drastic. 

SVANHILD 

[Has  during  the  talk  approached;  she 
stands  close  to  the  table,  and  says  in  a 
determined   but   whimsical  tone: 

I'll  pray  that  such  may  be  your  destiny. 
But,  when  it  finds  you — bear  it  like  a  man. 


300  love's    comedy.  [acti. 


Falk    [turning  round  in  surprise]. 

Miss  Svanhild! — well,  I'll  do  the  best  I  can. 

But  think  you  I   may  trust  implicitly 

To  finding  your  petitions  efficacious? 

Heaven,  as  you  know,  to  faith  alone  is  gra- 
cious— 

And  though  you've  doubtless  will  enough  for 
two 

To  make  me  bid  my  peace  of  mind  adieu, 

Have  you  the  faith  to  carry  matters  through? 

That  is  the  question. 

Svanhild   [half  in  jest]. 

Wait  till   sorrow  comes, 
And    all    your    being's     springtide    chills    and 

numbs. 
Wait  till  it  gnaws  and  rends  you,  soon  and  late, 
Then  tell  me  if  my  faith  is  adequate. 

[She  goes  across  to  the  ladies. 

Mrs.  Halm   [aside  to  her]. 

Can  you  two  never  be  at  peace?  you've  made 
Poor  Mr.  Falk  quite  angry,  I'm  afraid. 

[Continues  reprovingly  in  a  low  voice. 
Miss  Jay  joins  in  the  conversation. 
Svanhild  remains  cold  and  silent. 

Falk    [after  a  pause  of  reflection  goes  over  to 
the  summer-house,  then  to  himself]. 

With  fullest  confidence  her  glances  lightened. 
Shall  I  believe,  as  she  does  so  securely, 
That  Heaven  intends — 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  301 

GULUSTAD. 

No^  hang  it;  don't  be  frightened! 
The  powers  above  would  be  demented  surely 
To  give  effect  to  orders  such  as  these. 
No,  my  good  sir — the  cure  for  your  disease 
Is  exercise  for  muscle,  nerve,  and  sinew. 
Don't  lie  there  wasting  all  the  grit  that's  in  you 
In  idle  dreams;  cut  wood,  if  that  were  all; 
And  then  I'll  say  the  devil's  in't  indeed 
If  one  brief  fortnight  does  not  find  you  freed 
From  all  your  whimsies  high-fantastical. 

Falk. 

Fetter'd   by   choice,   like   Burnell's   ass,    I    pon- 
der— 
The  flesh  on  this  side,  and  the  spirit  yonder. 
Which  were  it  wiser  I  should  go  for  first  .^ 

Guldstad   \f.lling  the  glasses^. 

First  have  some  punch — that  quenches  ire  and 
thirst. 

Mrs.  Halm   \loohing  at  her  watch^. 

Ha !     Eight  o'clock !  my  watch  is  either  fast,  or 
It's  just  the  time  we  may  expect  the  Pastor. 
[Rises,   and  puts    things    in   order   on   the 
verandah. 

Falk. 
What!  have  we  parsons  coming.'' 

Miss  Jay. 

Don't  you  know.'' 


302  love's    comedy.  [acti. 


Mrs.   Halm. 
I  told  you,  just  a  little  while  ago — 

Anna. 
No,  mother — Mr.  Falk  had  not  yet  come. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Why   no,   that's   true;   but   pray   don't   look   so 

glum. 
Trust  me,  you'll  be  enchanted  with  his  visit. 

Falk. 
A  clerical  enchanter;  pray  who  is  it.'' 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Why,  Pastor  Strawman,  not  unknown  to  fame. 

Falk. 

Indeed!     Oh,  yes,  I  think  I've  heard  his  name. 

And  read  that  in  the  legislative  game 

He  comes  to  take  a  hand,  with  voice  and  vote. 

Stiver. 
He  speaks  superbly. 

Guldstad. 
When  he's  cleared  his  throat. 

Miss  Jay. 
He's  coming  with  his  wife — 


love's     comedy.  303 


Mrs.  Halm. 

And  all  their  blessings — 

Falk. 

To   give   them   three   or   four   days'  treat,   poor 

dears — 
Soon  he'll  be  buried  over  head  and  ears 
In  Swedish  muddles  and  official  messings — 
I  see! 

Mrs.  Halm   [to  Falk]. 

Now  there's  a  man  for  you,  in  truth ! 

GULDSTAD. 

They  say  he  was  a  rogue,  though,  in  his  youth. 

Miss  Jay    [offended]. 

There,  Mr.  Guldstad,  I   must  break  a  lance! 
I've  heard  as  long  as  I  can  recollect, 
Most  worthy  people  speak  with  great  respect 
Of  Pastor  Strawman  and  his  life's  romance. 

Guldstad    [laughing], 
Romance  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

Romance !  I  call  a  match  romantic 
At  which  mere  worldly  wisdom  looks  askance. 

Falk. 
You  make  my  curiosity  gigantic. 


304  love's    comedy.  [act  i. 

Miss  Jay    [c07itinumg]. 

But  certain  people  always  grow  splenetic — 
Why,   goodness   knows — at  everything  pathetic. 
And  scofi'  it  down.     We  all  know  how,  of  late. 
An  unfledged,  upstart  undergraduate 
Presumed,  with  brazen  insolence,  to  declare 
That  "  William  Russell"  was  a  poor  affair! 

Falk. 

But  what  has  this  to  do  with  Strawman,  pray? 
Is  he  a  poem,  or  a  Christian  play.'* 

Miss  Jay   [with  tears  of  emotion]. 

No,   Falk, — a  man,  with  heart  as  large  as  day. 
But  when  a — so  to  speak — mere  lifeless  thing 
Can  put  such  venom  into  envy's  sting. 
And  stir  up  evil  passions  fierce  and  fell 
Of  such  a  depth — 

Falk    [sympatheticalli/]. 

And  such  a  length  as  well — 

Miss  Jay. 

Why  then,  a  man  of  your  commanding  brain 
Can't  fail  to  see — 

Falk. 

Oh  yes,  that's  very  plain. 
But  hitherto  I  haven't  quite  made  out 
The  nature,  style,  and  jjlot  of  this  romance. 
It's  something  quite  delightful  I've  no  doub^' 
But  just  a  little  inkling  in  advance — 


ACTi.]  love's     comedy.  305 


Stiver. 

I  will  abstract^  in  rapid  resume^ 
The  leading  points. 

Miss  Jay. 

Noj  I  am  more  au  fait, 
I  know  the  ins  and  outs — ■ 

Mrs.  Halm. 

I  know  them  too ! 

Miss  Jay. 

Oh  Mrs.  Halm !  now  let  me  tell  it,  do ! 
Well,  Mr.   Falk,  you  see — he  passed  at  college 
For  quite  a  miracle  of  wit  and  knowledge, 
Had  admirable  taste  in  books  and  dress — 

Mrs.   Halm. 
And  acted — privately — with  great  success. 

Miss  Jay. 
Yes,  wait  a  bit — he  painted,  played  and  wrote — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
And  don't  forget  his  gift  of  anecdote. 

Miss  Jay. 
Do  give  me  time ;  I  know  the  whole  affair : 
He  made  some  verses,  set  them  to  an  air. 
Also  his  own," — and  found  a  publisher. 
O  heavens !  with  what  romantic  melancholy 
He  played  and  sang  his  "  Madrigals  to  Molly  " ! 


306  love's    comedy.  [m 


Mrs.   Halm. 
He  was  a  genius,  that's  the  simple  fact. 

GuLDSTAD    [to  himself]. 
Hm !     Some  were  of  opinion  he  was  cracked. 

Falk. 

A  gray  old  stager,  whose  sagacious  head 
Was  never  upon  mouldy  parchments  fed. 
Says    "  Love    makes    Petrarchs,    just    as    many 

lambs 
And  little  occupation,  Abrahams." 
But  who  was  Molly? 

Miss  Jay. 

Molly.?      His   elect. 
His  lady-love,  whom  shortly  we  expect. 
Of  a  great  firm  her  father  was  a  member — 

GuLDSTAD. 

A  timber  house. 

Miss  Jay   [curtly]. 

I'm  really  not  aware. 

GuLDSTAD. 

Did  a  large  trade  in  scantlings,  I  remember. 

Miss  Jay. 
That  is  the  trivial  side  of  the  affair. 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  S07 


Falk. 
A  firm? 

Miss  Jay   [continuing]. 

Of  vast  resources,  I'm  informed. 
You  can  imagine  how  the  suitors  swarm'd; 
Gentlemen  of  the  highest  reputation. — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Even  a  baronet  made  application. 

Miss  Jay. 

But  Molly  was  not  to  be  made  their  catch. 
She  had  met  Strawman  upon  private  stages; 
To  see  him  was  to  love  him — 

Falk. 

And  despatch 
The  wooing  gentry  home  without  their  wages? 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Was  it  not  just  a  too  romantic  match? 

Miss  Jay. 

And  then  there  was  a  terrible  old  father, 

Whose  sport  was  thrusting  happy  souls  apart; 

She  had  a  guardian  also,  as  I  gather. 

To  add  fresh  torment  to  her  tortured  heart. 

But  each  of  them  was  loyal  to  his  vow; 

A  straw-thatched  cottage  and  a  snow-white  ewe 

They  dream'd  of,  just  enough  to  nourish  two — 


308  love's    comedy.  [act 


Mrs.  Halm. 
Or  at  the  very  uttermost  a  cow, — 

Miss  Jay. 

In  short,  I've  heard  it  from  the  lips  of  both, — 
A  beck^  a  byre,  two  bosoms,  and  one  troth. 

Falk. 
Ah  yes  !    And  then —  ? 

Miss  Jay. 
She  broke  with  kin  and  class. 

Falk. 
She  broke — ? 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Broke  with  them. 

Falk. 

There's  a  plucky  lass ! 

Miss  Jay. 
And  fled  to  Strawman's  garret — 

Falk. 

How  ?     Without— 
Ahem — the  priestly  consecration.^ 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  309 


Miss  Jay. 

Shame ! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Fy,  fy !  my  late  beloved  husband's  name 
Was  on  the  list  of  sponsors — ! 

Stiver   [to  Miss  Jay]. 

You're  to  blame 
For  leaving  that  important  item  out. 
In  a  report  'tis  of  the  utmost  weight 
That  the  chronology  be  accurate. 
But  what  I  never  yet  could  comprehend 
Is  how  on  earth  they  managed — 

Falk. 

The  one  room 
Not  housing  sheep  and  cattle,  I  presume. 

Miss  Jay  [to  Stiver]. 

O,  but  you  must  consider  this,  my  friend; 
There    is    no    Want   where   Love's    the   guiding 

star; 
All's  right  without  if  tender  Troth's  within. 

[To  Falk. 
He  loved  her  to  the  notes  of  the  guitar. 
And  she  gave  lessons  on  the  violin — 

Mrs.   Halm. 
Then  all,  of  course,  on  credit  they  bespoke — 


310  love's    comedy.  [acti. 


GuLDSTAD. 

Till,  in  a  year,  the  timber  merchant  broke. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Then  Strawman  had  a  call  to  north. 

Miss  Jay. 

And  there 
Vowed,  in  a  letter  that  I  saw  (as  few  did). 
He  lived  but  for  his  duty,  and  for  her. 

Falk    [as  if  completing  her  staiement]. 
And  with  those  words  his  Life's  Romance  con- 
cluded. 

Mrs.   Halm    [rising]. 
How  if  we  sliould  go  out  upon  the  lawn, 
And  see  if  there's  no  prospect  of  them  yet.'* 

Miss  Jay  [drarving  on  her  mantle]. 
It's  cool  already. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Svanhild,  will  you  get 
My  woollen  shawl? — Come  ladies,  pray! 

LiND  [to  Anna,  unobserved  by  the  others]. 

Go  on ! 

[Svanhild  goes  into  the  house;  the  others, 

except   Falk,   go   towards   the   back  and 

ont  to  the  left.     Lind,  who  has  followed, 

stops  and  returns. 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  311 


LiND. 

My  friend! 

Falk. 
Ah,  ditto. 

LiND. 

Falk,  your  hand  !     The  tide 
Of  joy's  so  vehement,  it  will  perforce 
Break  out — 

Falk. 

Hullo  there;  you  must  first  be  tried; 
Sentence  and  hanging  follow  in  due  course. 
Now,  what  on  earth's  the  matter?     To  conceal 
From    me,    your    friend,    this   treasure    of    your 

finding; 
For  you'll  confess  the  inference  is  binding: 
You've  come  into  a  prize  off  Fortune's  wheel ! 

LiND. 

I've  snared  and  taken  Fortune's  blessed  bird ! 

Falk. 
How.''      Living, — and  undamaged  by  the  steel? 

LiND. 

Patience;  I'll  tell  the  matter  in  one  word. 
I  am  engaged !     Conceive —  ! 

Falk    [quickly]. 

Engaged ! 


312  love's    comedy.  [act 


LiND. 

It's  true. 
To-day, — with  unimagined  courage  swelling, 
I  said, — ahem,  it  will  not  bear  re-telling; — 
But  only  think, — the  sweet  young  maiden  grew 
Quite  rosy-red, — but  not  at  all  enraged ! 
You  see,  Falk,  what  I  ventured  for  a  bride ! 
She  listened, — and  I  rather  think  she  cried; 
That,  sure,  means  "  Yes  "  ? 

Falk. 

If  precedents  decide; 
Go  on. 

LiND. 

And  so  we  really  are — engaged? 

Falk. 

I  should  conclude  so;  but  the  only  way 
To  be  quite  certain,  is  to  ask  Miss  Jay. 

LiND. 

O  no,  I  feel  so  confident,  so  clear ! 
So  perfectly  assured,  and  void  of  fear. 

[Radiantly,  in  a  mysterious  tone. 
Hark !     I  had  leave  her  fingers  to  caress 
When  from  the  cofFee-board  she  drew  the  cover. 

Falk    [lifting  and  emptying  his  glass^. 

Well,  flowers   of   spring  your  wedding  garland 
dress ! 


ACT  I. J  love's     comedy.  313 


LiND    [doing  the  same]. 

And  here  I  swear  by  heaven  that  I  will  love  her 

Until  I  die,  with  love  as  infinite 

As  now  glows  in  me, — for  she  is  so  sweet! 

Falk. 

Engaged!     Aha,  so  that  was  why  you  flung 
The  Holy  Law  and  Prophets  on  the  shelf ! 

LiND    [laughing]. 
And  you  believed  it  was  the  song  you  sung — ! 

Falk. 
A  poet  believes  all  things  of  himself. 

LiND    [seriously]. 

Don't  think,  however,  Falk,  that  I  dismiss 
The  theologian  from  my  hour  of  bliss. 
Only,  I  find  the  Book  will  not  suffice 
As  Jacob's  ladder  unto  Paradise. 
I  must  into  God's  world,  and  seek  Him  there. 
A   boundless   kindness    in   my   heart   upsprings, 
I  love  the  straw,  I  love  the  creeping  things ; 
They  also  in  my  joy  shall  have  a  share. 

Falk. 
Yes,  only  tell  me  this,  though — 

LiND. 

I  have  told  it, — 
My  precious  secret,  and  our  three  hearts  hold  it! 


314  love's    comedy.  [acti. 


Falk. 
But  have  you  thought  about  the  future? 

LiND. 

Thought? 
I? — thought  about  the  future?     No,  from  this 
Time  forth  I  live  but  in  the  hour  that  is. 
In  home   shall  all  my  happiness  be  sought; 
We    hold    Fate's    reins,    we    drive    her    hither, 

thither, 
And  neither  friend  nor  motlier  shall  have  right 
To  say  unto  my  budding  blossom :  Wither ! 
For  I  am  earnest  and  her  eyes  are  bright. 
And  so  it  must  unfold  into  the  light ! 

Falk. 
Yes,  Fortune  lUies  you,  you  will  serve  her  turn! 

LiND. 

My  spirits  like  wild  music  glow  and  burn; 
I  feel  myself  a  Titan:  though  a  foss 
Opened  before  me — I  would  leap  across ! 

Falk. 

Your  love,  you  mean  to  say,  in  simple  prose. 
Has  made  a  reindeer  of  you. 

LiND. 

Well,  suppose; 
But  in  my  wildest  flight,   I  know  the  nest 
In  which  my  heart's  dove  longs  to  be  at  rest! 


;ti.]  love's     comedy.  315 


Falk. 

Well  then,  to-morrow  it  may  fly  con  brio; 
You're  off  into  the  hills  with  the  quartette. 
I'll  guarantee  you  against  cold  and  wet — 

LiND. 

Pooh,  the  quartette  may  go  and  climb  in  trio. 
The  lowly  dale  has  mountain  air  for  me ; 
Here  I've  the  immeasurable  fjord,  the  flowers, 
Here  I  have  warbling  birds  and  choral  bowers. 
And  lady  Fortune's  self, — for  here  is  she! 

Falk. 

Ah,  lady  Fortune  by  our  Northern  water 

Is  rara  avis, — hold  her  if  you've  caught  her ! 

[With  a  glance  towards  the  house. 

Hist — Svaniiild — 

LiND. 

Well;  I  go, — disclose  to  none 
The  secret  that  we  share  alone  with  one. 
'Twas  good  of  you  to  listen:  now  enfold  it 
Deep    in    your    heart, — warm,    glowing,    as    I 
told  it. 

[He  goes  out  in  the  background  to  the 
others.  Falk  looks  after  him  a  moment, 
and  paces  up  and  dorvn  in  the  garden, 
visibly  striving  to  master  his  agitation. 
Presently  Svanhild  comes  out  with  a 
shawl  on  her  arm,  and  is  going  towards 
the  back.  Falk  approaches  and  gazes 
at  her  fixedly.     Svanhild  stops. 


3l6  love's    comedy.  [act  i. 

SvANHiLD   [after  a  short  pause]. 
You  gaze  so  at  me ! 

Falk   [half  to  himself]. 

Yes,  'tis  there — the  same; 
The  shadow  in  her  eyes'  deep  mirror  sleeping, 
The  roguish  elf  about  her  lips  a-peeping. 
It  is  there. 

SVANHILD. 

What.''     You  frighten  me. 

Falk. 

Your  name 
Is  Svanhild? 

SVANHILD. 

Yes,  you  know  it  very  well. 

Falk. 

But  do  you  know  the  name  is  laughable? 
I  beg  you  to  discard  it  from  to-night ! 

Svanhild. 
That  would  be  far  beyond  a  daughter's  right  — 

Falk   [latighing]. 
Hm.      "  Svanhild  !      Svanhild  !  " 

[With  sudden  gravity. 
With  your  earliest  breath 
How  came  you  by  this  prophecy  of  death.'' 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  317 

SVANHILD. 

Is  it  so  grim? 

Falk. 

No,  lovely  as  a  song. 
But  for  our  age  too  great  and  stern  and  strong, 
How  can  a  modern  demoiselle  fill  out 
The  ideal  that  heroic  name  expresses? 
No,  no,  discard  it  with  your  outworn  dresses. 

SVANHILD. 

You  mean  the  mythical  princess,  no  doubt — 

Falk. 
Who,  guiltless,  died  beneath  the  horse's  feet. 

SVANHILD. 

But  now  such  acts  are  clearly  obsolete. 

No,   no,    I'll   mount    his    saddle!      There's    my 

place ! 
How  often  have  I  dreamt,  in  pensive  ease. 
He  bore  me,  buoyant,  through  the  world  apace. 
His  mane  a  flag  of  freedom  in  the  breeze ! 

Falk. 

Yes,  the  old  tale.     In  "  pensive  ease  "  no  mortal 
Is  stopped  by  thwarting  bar  or  cullis'd  portal; 
Fearless  we  cleave  the  ether  without  bound: 
In  practice,  tho',  we  shrewdly  hug  the  ground; 
For  all  love  life  and,  having  choice,  will  choose 

it; 
And  no  man  dares  to  leap  where  he  may  lose  it. 


318  lovk's    comedy.  [act 


SVANHILD. 

Yes!  show  me  but  the  end,  I'll  spurn  the  shore; 
But  let  the  end  be  worth  the  leaping  for ! 
A  Ballarat  beyond  the  desert  sands — 
Else  each  will  stay  exactly  where  he  stands. 

Falk    [sarcastically]. 
I  grasp  the  case; — the  due  conditions  fail. 

SvANHiLD    [eagerly]. 

Exactly :  what's  the  use  of  spreading  sail 
When  there  is  not  a  breath  of  wind  astir  ? 

Falk    [ironically]. 

Yes,  what's  the  use  of  plying  whip  and  spur 
When  there  is  not  a  penny  of  reward 
For  him  who  tears  him  from  the  festal  board, 
And  mounts,  and  dashes  headlong  to  perdition? 
Such  doing  for  the  deed's  sake  asks  a  knight, 
And  knighthood's  now  an  idle  superstition. 
That  was  your  meaning,  possibly? 

SVANHILD. 

Quite  right. 
Eook  at  that  fruit  tree  in  the  orchard  close, — 
No  blossom  on  its  barren  branches  bloAvs. 
You  should  have  seen  last  year  with  what  brave 

airs 
It  staggered  underneath  its  world  of  pears. 

Falk    [tnicertain]. 
No  doubt,  but  what's  the  moral  you  impute? 


;ti.]  love's     comedy.  319 


SvANHiLD   [with  firiesse]. 
O,  among  other  things,  the  bold  unreason 
Of  modern  Zacharies  who  seek  for  fruit. 
If  the  tree  blossom'd  to  excess  last  season, 
You  must  not  crave  the  blossoms  back  in  this. 

Falk. 
I  knew  you'd  find  your  footing  in  the  ways 
Of  old  Romance. 

SVANHILD. 

Yes,  modern  virtue  is 
Of  quite  another  stamp.     Who  now  arrays 
Himself  to  battle  for  the  truth?     Who'll  stake 
His  life  and  person  fearless  for  truth's  sake? 
Where  is  the  hero? 

Falk   [looking  keenly  at  her]. 

Where  is  the  Valkyria? 

Svanhild    [shaking  her  head], 
Valkyrias  find  no  market  in  this  land ! 
When  the  faith  lately  was  assailed  in  Syria, 
Did  you  go  out  with  the  crusader-band? 
No,  but  on  paper  you  were  warm  and  willing, — 
And  sent  the  "  Clerical  Gazette  "  a  shilling. 

[Pause.       Falk    is    about    to    retort,    hut 
checks  himself,  and  goes  into  the  garden. 

Svanhild. 
[After  watching  him  a  moment,  approaches 
him  and  asks  gently: 
Falk,  are  you  angry? 


320  love's    comedy.  [acti. 

Falk. 
No,  I  only  brood, — 

SvANHiLD  [with  thoughtful  sympathy]. 
You  seem  to  be  two  natures,  still  at  feud, — 
Unreconciled — 

Falk. 
I  know  it  well. 

SvANHiLD    [impetuously]. 

But  why.'* 

Falk   [losing  self-control]. 
Why,  why.''     Because  I  hate  to  go  about 
With  soul  bared  boldly  to  the  vulgar  eye. 
As  Jock  and  Jennie  hang  their  passions  out; 
To  wear  my  glowing  heart  upon  my  sleeve. 
Like  women  in  low  dresses.     You,  alone, 
Svanhild,  you  only, — you,  I  did  believe, — 
Well,  it  is  past,  that  dream,  for  ever  flown. — 

[She  goes  to  the  summer-house  and  looks 
out;  he  follo7vs. 

You  listen — .'' 

Svanhild. 
To  another  voice,  that  sings. 
Hark !  every  evening  when  the  sun's  at  rest, 
A  little  bird  floats  hither  on  beating  wings, — 
See  there — it  darted  from  its  leafy  nest — 
And,  do  you  know,  it  is  my  faith, — as  oft 
As  God  makes  any  songless  soul.  He  sends 
A  little  bird  to  be  her  friend  of  friends, 
And  sing  for  ever  in  her  garden-croft. 


love's     comedy.  321 


Falk    [picking  up  a  stone]. 
Then  must  the  owner  and  the  bird  be  near. 
Or  its  song's  squandered  on  a  stranger's  ear. 

SVANHILD. 

Yes,  that  is  true;  but  I've  discovered  mine. 
Of  speech  and  song  I  am  denied  the  power. 
But  when  it  warbles  in  its  leafy  bower, 
Poems  flow  in  upon  my  brain  like  wine — 
Ah,  yes, — they  fleet — they  are  not  to  be  won — 

[Falk      throws      the      stone.        Svanhild 
screams. 
O  God,  you've  hit  it !    Ah,  what  have  you  done ! 

[(S/je    hurries    out    to    the    right    and    then 
quickly  returns. 

0  pity !  pity  ! 

Falk    [in  passionate  agitation]. 
No, — but  eye  for  eye, 
Svanhild,  and  tooth  for  tooth.     Now  you'll  at- 
tend 
No  further  greetings   from  your  garden-friend, 
No  guerdon  from  the  land  of  melody. 
That  is  my  vengeance:  as  you  slew,  I  slay. 

Svanhild. 

1  slew? 

Falk. 

You  slew.     Until  this  very  day, 
A  clear-voiced  song-bird  warbled  in  my  soul; 
See, — now  one  passing  bell  for  both  may  toll — 
You've  killed  it! 


322  love's    comedy.  [act  i. 


SVANHILD. 

Have  I? 


Falk. 

Yes,  for  you  have  slain 
My  young,  high-hearted,  joyous  exultation — 

[  Contemptuously . 
By  your  betrothal! 

SVANHILD. 

How!     But  pray,  explain — I 

Falk. 

O,  it's  in  full  accord  with  expectation ; 

He  gets  his  licence,  enters  orders,  speeds  to 

A  post, — as  missionary  in  the  West — 

SvANHiLD   [in  the  same  tone^^. 

A  pretty  penny,  also,  he  succeeds  to; — 
For  it  is  Lind  you  speak  of — .'' 

Falk. 

You  know  best 
Of  whom  I  speak. 

Svanhild    {with  a  subdued  sviile^. 

As  the  bride's  sister,  true, 
I  cannot  help — 


ACTi.l  love's     comedy.  323 


Falk. 
Great  God!     It  is  not  you — ? 

SVANHILD. 

Who  win  this  overplus  of  bliss  ?     Ah  no  ! 

Falk    [with  almost  childish  joy^. 
It  is  not  you !     O  God  be  glorified  ! 
What  love,  what  mercy  docs  He  not  bestow! 
I  shall  not  see  you  as  another's  bride ; — 
'Twas  but  the  fire  of  pain  He  bade  me  bear — 
[Tries  to  seize  her  hand. 
O  hear  me,  Svanhild,  hear  me  then — 

Svanhild  [pointing  quickly  to  the  background]. 

See  there ! 
[She  goes  towards  the  house.  At  the  same 
moment  Mas.  Halm,  Anna,  JNIiss  Jay, 
GuLDSTAD,  Stiver,  and  Lind  emerge 
from  the  background.  During  the  pre- 
vious scene  the  sun  has  set;  it  is  now 
dark. 

Mrs.  Halm   [to  Svanhild]. 
The  Strawmans  may  be  momently  expected. 
Where  have  you  been? 

Miss  Jay  [after  glancing  at  Falk]  . 

Your  colour's  very  high. 

Svanhild. 
A  little  face-ache;  it  will  soon  pass  by. 


324  love's    comedy.  [act  i. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

And  yet  you  walk  at  nightfall  unprotected? 
Arrange  the  room,  and  see  that  tea  is  ready; 
Let  everything  be  nice;  I  know  the  lady. 

[SvANHiLD  goes  in. 

Stiver   [to  Falk]. 
What  is  the  colour  of  this  parson's  coat? 

Falk. 
I  guess  bread-taxers  would  not  catch  his  vote. 

Stiver. 

How  if  one  made  allusion  to  the  store 

Of  verses,  yet  unpublished,  in  my  drawer? 

Falk. 
It  might  do  something. 

Stiver. 

Would  to  heaven  it  might ! 
Our  wedding's  imminent;  our  purses  light. 
Courtship's  a  very  serious  affair. 

Falk. 
Just  so:  "  Qu'allais-tu  faire  dans  cette  galere?  " 

Stiver. 
Is  courtship  a  "  galere  "? 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  325 

Falk. 

No,  married  lives; — 
All  servitude,  captivity,  and  gyves. 

Stiver    [seeing  Miss   Jay  approach]. 

You  little  know  what  wealtli  a  man  obtains 
From  woman's  eloquence  and  woman's  brains. 

Miss  Jay    [aside  to  Stiver]. 
Will  Guldstad  give  us  credit,  think  you.'' 


Stiver   [peevishly]. 


I 


Am  not  quite  certain  of  it  yet:  I'll  try. 

[They  withdraw  in  conversation;  Lind  and 
Anna  approach. 

Lind  [aside  to  Falk]. 

I  can't  endure  it  longer;  in  post-haste 
I  must  present  her — 

Falk. 

You  had  best  refrain. 
And  not  initiate  the  eye  profane 
Into  your  mysteries — 

Lind. 

That  would  be  a  jest! — 
From  you,  my  fellow-boarder,  and  my  mate. 
To  keep  concealed  my  new-found  happy  state ! 
Nay,  now,  my  head  with  Fortune's  oil  anointed — 


326 


LOVES      COMEDY.  ACT    I, 


Falk. 


You  think  tlie  occasion  good  to  get  it  curled? 
Well,    my    good    friend,    you    won't    be    disap- 
pointed ; 
Go  and  announce  your  union  to  the  world! 

LiND. 

Other  reflections  also  weigh  with  me. 

And  one  of  more  especial  gravity ; 

Say  that  there  lurked  among  our  motley  band 

Some  sneaking,  sly  pretender  to  her  hand; 

Say,  his  attentions  became  undisguised, — 

We  should  be  disagreeably  compromised. 

Falk. 

Yes,  it  is  true;  it  had  escaped  my  mind. 

You  for  a  higher  office  were  designed, 

Love  as  his  young  licentiate  has  retained  you; 

Shortly  you'll  get  a  permanent  position; 

But  it  would  be  defying  all  tradition 

If  at  the  present  moment  he  ordained  you. 

LiND. 

Yes  if  the  merchant  does  not — 


Falk. 

What  of  him.? 

Anna   [troubled]. 
Oh,  it  is  Lind's  unreasonable  whim. 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  327 


LiND. 

Hush;  I've  a  deep  foreboding  that  the  man 
Will  rob  me  of  my  treasure,  if  he  can. 
The  fellow,  as  we  know,  comes  daily  down, 
Is  rich,  unmarried,  takes  you  round  the  town; 
In  short,  my  own,  regard  it  as  we  will. 
There  are  a  thousand  things  that  bode  us  ill. 

Anna    [sighing]. 
Oh,  it's  too  bad ;  to-day  was  so  delicious ! 

Falk   [sympathetically  to  Lind]. 

Don't  wreck  your  joy,  unfoundedly  suspicious. 
Don't  hoist   your    flag   till   time   the   truth   dis- 
close— 

Anna. 

Great  God!   Miss  Jay  is  looking;  hush,  be  still! 

[She  and  Lind  withdraw  in  different  di- 
rections. 

Falk    [looking  after  Lind]. 
So  to  the  ruin  of  his  youth  he  goes. 

Guldstad. 

l^Who  has  meantime  been  conversing  on  the 
steps  with  Mrs.  Halm  and  Miss  Jay, 
approaches  Falk  and  slaps  him  on  the 
shoulder. 

Well,  brooding  on  a  poem? 


328  love's    comedy.  [acti. 

Falk. 

No,  a  play. 

GULDSTAD. 

The  deuce; — I  never  heard  it  was  your  line. 

Falk. 

O  no,  the  author  is  a  friend  of  mine, 
And  your  acquaintance  also,  I  daresay. 
The  knave's  a  dashing  writer,  never  doubt. 
Only  imagine,  in  a  single  day 
He's  worked  a  perfect  little  Idyll  out. 

Guldstad    [  slily  ] . 
With  happy  ending,  doubtless ! 

Falk. 

You're  aware. 
No  curtain  falls  but  on  a  plighted  pair. 
Thus  with  the  Trilogy's  First  Part  we've  reck- 
oned; 
But  now  the  poet's  labour-throes  begin ; 
The  Comedy  of  Troth-plight,  Part  the  Second, 
Thro'  five  insipid  Acts  he  has  to  spin. 
And  of  that  staple,  finally,  compose 
Part  Third, — or  Wedlock's   Tragedy,   in  prose. 

Guldstad   [smiling]. 
The  poet's  vein  is  catching,  it  would  seem. 

Falk. 

Really?     How  so,  pray? 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  329 

GULDSTAD. 

Since   I   also  pore 
And  ponder  over  a  poetic  scheme, — 

[Mysteriously. 
An  actuality — and  not  a  dream. 


Falk. 
And  pray,  who  is  the  hero  of  your  theme? 

Guldstad. 
I'll  tell  you  that  to-morrow — not  before. 

Falk. 
It  is  yourself! 

Guldstad. 
You  think  me  equal  to  it? 

Falk. 

I'm  sure  no  other  mortal  man  could  do  it. 

But  then  the  heroine  ?     No  city  maid, 

I'll  swear,  but  of  the  country,  breathing  balm? 

Guldstad    [lifting  his  finger]. 

Ah, — that's    the    point,    and    must    not    be    be- 
trayed ! — 

[Changing  his  tone. 

Pray  tell  me  your  opinion  of  Miss  Halm. 


ySO  love's    comedy.  [act  I. 

Falk. 

O  you're  best  able  to  pronounce  upon  her; 
My  voice  can  neither  credit  nor  dishonour^ — 

l^Sjtiiling, 
But  just  take  care  no  mischief-maker  blot 
This  fine  poetic  scheme  of  which  you  talk. 
Suppose  I  were  so  shameless  as  to  balk 
The  meditated  climax  of  the  plot? 

GuLDSTAD    [good-naturedly]. 

Well,    I    would   cry    "  Amen/'    and   change   my 
plan. 

Falk. 
What ! 

GuLDSTAD. 

Why,  you  see,  you  are  a  letter'd  man; 
How  monstrous  were  it  if  your  skill'd  design 
Were  ruined  by  a  bungler's  hand  like  mine ! 

[Retires  to  the  background. 

Falk   [in  passing,  to  Lind]. 

Yes,    you    were    right;    the    merchant's    really 

scheming 
The  ruin  of  your  new-won  happiness. 

Lind  [aside  to  Anna]. 
Now  then  you  see,  my  doubting  was  not  dream- 
ing; 
We'll  go  this  very  moment  and  confess. 

[They  approach  Mrs,  Halm,  who  is  stand- 
ing with  Miss  Jay  by  the  house. 


love's     comedy.  331 


GuLDSTAD    [conversing  with   Stiver]. 
'Tis  a  fine  evening. 

Stiver. 
Very  likely, — when 
A  man's  disposed — 

GuLDSTAD    [facetiously]. 

What,  all  not  running  smooth 
In  true  love's  course? 

Stiver. 

Not  that  exactly — 

Falk    [comi7ig  up]. 

Then 
With  your  engagement? 

Stiver. 

That's  about  the  truth. 

Falk. 
Hurrah !     Your  spendthrift  pocket  has  a  groat 
Or  two  still  left,  it  seems,  of  poetry. 

Stiver  [stifjly], 
I  cannot  see  what  poetry  has  got 
To  do  with  my  engagement,  or  with  me. 

Falk. 
You  are  not  meant  to  see ;  when  lovers  prove 
What  love  is,  all  is  over  with  their  love. 


832  love's    comedy.  [acti. 

GuLDSTAD   [to  Stiver]. 

But  if  there's  matter  for  adjustment,  pray 
Let's  hear  it. 

Stiver. 

I've  been  pondering  all  day 
Whether  the  thing  is  proper  to  disclose, 
But  still  the  Ayes  are  balanced  by  the  Noes. 


Falk. 

I'll  right  you  in  one  sentence.     Ever  since 
As  plighted  lover  you  were  first  installed. 
You've  felt  yourself,  if  I  may  say  so,  galled — 

Stiver. 
And  sometimes  to  the  quick. 

Falk. 

You've   had   to  wince 
Beneath  a  crushing  load  of  obligations 
That   you'd    send   packing,   if   good    form   per- 
mitted. 
That's  what's  the  matter. 

Stiver. 

Monstrous  accusations ! 
My  legal  debts  I've  honestly  acquitted; 
But  other  bonds  next  month  are  falling  due ; 

[To  Guldstad. 

When  a  man  weds,  you  see,  he  gets  a  wife — 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  333 

Falk   [  triumphant  ] . 
Now  your  youth's  heaven  once  again  is  blue. 
There  rang  an  echo  from  your  old  song-life ! 
That's  how  it  is:  I  read  you  thro'  and  thro'; 
Wings,    wings    were    all    you    wanted, — and    a, 
knife ! 

Stiver. 
A  knife.'' 

Falk. 
Yes,  Resolution's  knife,  to  sever 
Each  captive  bond,  and  set  you  free  for  ever. 
To  soar — 

Stiver    [  angrily  ] . 
Nay,  now  you're  insolent  beyond 
Endurance !     Me  to  charge  with  violation 
Of  law, — me,  me  with  plotting  to  abscond ! 
It's  libellous,  malicious   defamation. 
Insult  and  calumny — 

Falk. 

Are  you  insane.'' 
What  is  all  this  about?     Explain!     Explain! 

Guldstad    [laughingly   to  Stiver]. 
Yes,  clear  your  mind  of  all  this  balderdash ! 
What  do  you  want.'' 

Stiver    [pulling  himself   together] . 

A  trifling  loan  in  cash. 

Falk. 
A  loan ! 


334  love's    comedy.  [act  i. 


Stiver    [hurriedly  to  Guldstad]. 

That  is,  I  mean  to  say,  you  know, 
A  voucher  for  a  ten  pound  note,  or  so. 

Miss  Jay   [to  Lind  and  Anna]. 
I  wish  you  joy!     How  lovely,  how  delicious! 

Guldstad   [going  up  to  the  ladies]. 
Pray  what  has  happened.'' 

[To  himself.]     This  was  unpropitious. 

Falk   [throws  his  arms  about  Stiver's  neck]. 

Hurrah !  the  trumpet's  dulcet  notes  proclaim 
A  brother  born  to  you  in  Amor's  name ! 

[Drags  him  to  the  others. 

Miss  Jay    [to  the  gentlemen]. 

Think  !  Lind  and  Anna — think  ! — have  plighted 

hearts. 
Affianced  lovers ! 

Mrs.  Halm  [rvith  tears  of  emotion]. 

'Tis  the  eighth  in  order 
Who  well-provided  from  this  house  departs ; 

[To  Falk. 

Seven  nieces  wedded — always  with  a  boarder — 

[7*  overcome;  presses  her  handkerchief  to 
her  eyes. 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  335 


Miss  Jay   [to  Anna]. 
Well,  there  will  come  a  flood  of  gratulation ! 

[Caresses  her  with  emotion. 

LiND    [seising  Falk's   hand]. 
My  friend,  I  walk  in  rapt  intoxication ! 

Falk. 
Hold !     As  a  plighted  man  you  are  a  member 
Of  Rapture's   Temperance-association. 
Observe  its  rules ; — no  orgies  here,  remember ! 

[Turning  to  Guldstad   sympathetically. 
Well,  my  good  sir ! 

Guldstad   [beaming  with  pleastire]. 
I  think  this  promises 
All  happiness   for  both. 

Falk    [staring  at  him]. 

You    seem   to   stand 
The  shock  with  exemplary  self-command. 
That's  well. 

Guldstad. 
What  do  you  mean,  sir? 

Falk. 

Only  this; 
That  inasmuch  as  you  appeared  to  feed 
Fond  expectations  of  your  own — 

Guldstad. 

Indeed  ? 


336  love's    comedy.  [acti. 


Falk. 

At  any  rate,  you  were  upon  the  scent. 

You   named   Miss    Halm;    you   stood   upon  this 

spot 
And  asked  me — 

GuLDSTAD    [smiling]. 
There  are  two,  though,  are  there  not? 

Falk. 
It  was — the  other  sister  that  you  meant.'' 

Guldstad. 

That  sister,  yes,  the  other  one, — just  so. 
Judge    for    yourself,    when    you    have    come    to 

know 
That  sister  better,  if  she  has  not  in  her 
Merits  which,  if  they  were  divined,  would  win 

her 
A  little  more  regard  than  we  bestow. 

Falk    [coldly]. 

Her  virtues  are  of  every  known  variety 
I'm  sure. 

Guldstad. 

Not  quite;  the  accent  of  society 
She  cannot  hit  exactly;  there  she  loses. 

Falk. 
A  grievous  fault. 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  33'i 


GULDSTAD. 

But  if  her  mother  chooses 
To  spend  a  winter  on  her^  she'll  come  out  of  it 
Queen  of  them  all^  I'll  wager. 

Falk. 

Not  a  doubt  of  it. 

Guldstad    [laughing]. 
Young  women  are  odd  creatures,  to  be  sure ! 

Falk    [gaily]- 

Like  winter  rye-seed,  canopied  secure 
By  frost  and  snow,  invisibly  they  sprout. 

Guldstad. 
Then  in  the  festive  ball-room  bedded  out — 

Falk. 
With  equivoque  and  scandal  for  manure — 

Guldstad. 
And  when  the  April  sun  shines — 

Falk. 

There  the  blade  is ; 
The  seed  shot  up  in  mannikin  green  ladies ! 

[I.iND  comes  up  and  seizes  Falk's  hand. 


338  love's    comedy.  [acti. 


LiND. 

How  well  I  chose, — past  understanding  well; — 
I  feel  a  bliss  that  nothing  can  dispel. 

GULDSTAD. 

There  stands  your  mistress ;  tell  us,  if  you  can. 
The  right  demeanor  for  a  plighted  man. 

LiND    [perturbed]. 
That's  a  third  person's  business  to  declare. 

GuLDSTAD   [joking]. 
Ill-tempered!     This  to  Anna's  ears  I'll  bear. 

[Goes  to  the  ladies. 

LiND    [looking  after  him]. 
Can  such  a  man  be  tolerated.'' 

Falk. 

You 
Mistook  his  aim,  however, — 

LiND. 

And  how  so.'' 
Falk. 
It  was  not  Anna  that  he  had  in  view. 

LiND. 

How,  was  it  Svanhild? 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  339 


Falk. 

Well,    I   hardly   know. 
[  Whimsically. 
Forgive  me,  martyr  to  another's  cause ! 

LiND. 

What  do  you  mean? 

Falk. 

You've  read  the  news  to-night? 

LiND. 

No. 

Falk. 

Do  so.     There  'tis  told  in  black  and  white 
Of  one  who,  ill-luck's  bitter  counsel  taking. 
Had  his  sound  teeth  extracted  from  his  jaws 
Because  his  cousin-german's  teeth  were  aching. 

Miss  Jay   [looking  out  to  the  left]. 
Here  comes  the  priest ! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Now  see  a  man  of  might! 

Stiver. 
Five  children,  six,  seven,  eight — 

Falk. 
And,  heavens,  all  recent! 


340  love's    comedy.  [acti. 

Miss  Jay. 
Ugh !  it  is  almost  to  be  called  indecent. 

\^A  carriage  has  meantime  been  heard  stop- 
ping outside  to  the  left.  Strawman,  his 
wife,  and  eight  little  girls,  all  in  travel- 
ling dress,  enter  one  by  one. 

Mrs.   Halm    [advancing  to  meet   them]. 
Welcome,  a  hearty  welcome ! 

Strawman. 

Thank  you. 


A  party? 


Mrs.  Strawman. 

Is  it 

Mrs.  Halm. 
No,  dear  madam,  not  at  all. 


Mrs.  Strawman. 
If  we  disturb  you — 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Au  contraire,  your  visit 
Could  in  no  wise  more  opportunely  fall. 
My  Anna's  just  engaged. 

Strawman    [shaJciyig  Anna's  hand  with 
unction]. 

Ah  then,   I   must 
Bear  witness ; — Lo  !  in  wedded  Love's  presented 
A  treasure  such  as  neither  moth  nor  rust 
Corrupt — if  it  be  duly   supplemented. 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  341 


Mrs.   Halm. 

But  how  delightful  that  your  little  maids 
Should  follow  you  to  town. 

Strawman. 

Four  tender  blades 
We  have  besides. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Ah,  really? 

Strawman. 

Three  of  whom 
Are  still  too  infantine  to  take  to  heart 
A  loving  father's  absence,  when  I  come 
To  town  for  sessions. 

Miss  Jay  [to  Mrs.  Halm,  bidding  farewell]. 
Now  I  must  depart. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
O,  it  is  still  so  early ! 

Miss  Jay. 

I  must  fly 
To  town  and  spread  the  news.     The  Storms,  I 

know. 
Go  late  to  rest,  they  will  be  up ;  and  oh ! 
How  glad  the  aunts  will  be !     Now,  dear,  put  by 
Your  shyness ;  for  to-morrow  a  spring-tide 
Of  callers  will  flow  in  from  every  side ! 


342  love's    comedy. 


Mrs.   Halm. 

Well,  then,  good-night. 

[To  the  others. 

Now  friends,  what  would  you  say 
To  drinking  tea? 

[To  Mrs.  Strawman. 

Pray,  madam,  lead  the  way. 

[Mrs.  Halm,  Strawman,  his  wife  and 
children,  with  Guldstad,  Lind,  and 
Anna  go  into  the  house. 

Miss  Jay  [taking  Stiver's  arm]. 

Now  let's  be  tender !     Look  how  softly  floats 
Queen  Luna  on  her  throne  o'er  lawn  and  lea ! — 
Well,  but  you  are  not  looking! 

Stiver    [ci-ossly]. 

Yes,  I  see; 
I'm  thinking  of  the  promissory  notes. 

[They  go  out  to  the  left.  Falk,  who  has 
been  continuously  watching  Strawman 
and  his  wife,  remains  behind  alone  in  the 
garden.  It  is  now  dark;  the  house  is 
lighted  up. 

Falk. 

All  is  as  if  burnt  out; — all  desolate,  dead — ! 
So  thro'  the  world  they  wander,  two  and  two; 
Charred    wreckage,    like    the    blackened    stems 

that  strew 
The  forest  when  the  withering  fire  is  fled. 


.]  love's     comedy.  343 


Far  as  tlie  eye  can  travel,  all  is  drought, 

And  nowhere  peeps  one  spray  of  verdure  out ! 

[SvANHiLD  comes  out  on  to  the  ver-andah 
with  a  flowering  rose-tree  which  she  sets 
down. 

Yes  one — yes  one — ! 


SVANHILD. 

Falkj  in  the  dark? 

Falk. 

And  fearless ! 
Darkness  to  me  is  fair,  and  light  is  cheerless. 
But  are  not  you  afraid  in  yonder  walls 
Where  the  lamp's  light  on  sallow  corpses  falls — 

SVANHILD. 

Shame ! 


Falk  [looking  after  Strawman  mho  appears  at 
the  window]. 

He  was  once  so  brilliant  and  so  strong; 
Warred    with   the    world   to    win    his    mistress ; 

passed 
For  Custom's  doughtiest  iconoclast; 
And  poured  forth  love  in  paeans  of  glad  song — ! 
Look  at  liim  now !     In  solemn  robes  and  wraps, 
A  two-legged  drama  on  his  own  collapse ! 


344  love's    comedy.  [act 


And  she^  the  limp-skirt  slattern,  with  the  shoes 
Heel-trodden,    that    squeak    and    clatter    in    her 

traces, 
This  is  the  winged  maid  who  was  his  Muse 
And  escort  to  the  kingdom  of  the  graces ! 
Of  all  that  fire  this  puff  of  smoke's  the  end ! 
Sic  transit  gloria  amoris,  friend. 

SVANHILD. 

Yes,  it  is  wretched,  wretched  past  compare. 
I  know  of  no  one's  lot  that  I  would  share. 

Falk    [eagerly]. 

Then  let  us  two  rise  up  and  bid  defiance 
To  this  same  order  Art,  not  Nature,  bred ! 

SvANHiLD    [shaking  her  head]. 

Then  were  the  cause  for  which  we  made  alliance 
Ruined,  as  sure  as  this  is  earth  we  tread. 

Falk. 

No,  triumph  waits  upon  two  souls  in  xmity. 

To  Custom's  parish-church  no  more  we'll  wend, 

Seatholders  in  the  Philistine  community. 

See,  Personality's  one  aim  and  end 

Is  to  be  independent,  free  and  true. 

In  that  I  am  not  wanting,  nor  are  you. 

A  fiery  spirit  pulses  in  your  veins. 

For  thoughts  that  master,  you  have  words  that 

burn; 
The  corslet  of  convention,  that  constrains 
The  beating  hearts  of  other  maids,  you  spurn. 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  34-5 


The   voice    that    you    were    born    with    will   not 

chime  to 
The  chorus  Custom's  baton  gives  the  time  to. 

SVANHILD. 

And  do  you  think  pain  has  not  often  pressed 
Tears  from  my  eyes,  and  quiet  from  my  breast? 
I  longed  to  shape  my  way  to  my  own  bent — 

Falk. 

"  In  pensive  ease.''  " 

SVANHILD. 

O  no,  'twas  sternly  meant. 
But  then  the  aunts  came  in  with  well-intended 
Advice,  the  matter  must  be  sifted,  weighed — 

Incoming  nearer. 

"  In  pensive  ease,"  you  say;  oh  no,  I  made 
A  bold  experiment — in  art. 

Falk. 

Which  ended — ? 

SVANHILD. 

In  failure.     I  lacked  talent  for  the  brush. 

The  thirst  for  freedom,  tho',  I  could  not  crush ; 

Checked  at  the  easel,  it  essayed  the  stage — 

Falk. 
That  plan  was  shattered  also,  I  engage.'' 


346  love's    comedy.  [act  i. 


SVANHILD. 


Upon  the  eldest  aunt's  suggestion,  yes ; 
She  much  preferred  a  place  as  governess — - 

Falk. 
But  of  all  this  I  never  heard  a  word ! 

SvANHiLD    [smiling]. 

No  wonder ;  thej'  took  care  that  none  was  heard. 
They  trembled  at  the  risk  "  my  future  "  ran 
If  this  were  whispered  to  unmarried  Man. 

Falk  [after  gazing  a  moment  at  her  in  medita- 
tive sympathy]. 

That  such  must  be  j-our  lot  I  long  had  guessed. 
When  first  I  met  you,  I  can  well  recall. 
You  seemed  to  me  quite  other  than  the  rest. 
Beyond  the  comprehension  of  them  all. 
They  sat  at  table,- — fragrant  tea  a-brewing, 
And  small-talk  humming  with  the  tea   in  tune. 
The  young   girls   blushing  and  the  young  men 

cooing. 
Like  pigeons  on  a  sultry  afternoon. 
Old  maids  and  matrons  volubly  averred 
Morality  and  faith's  supreme  felicity. 
Young  wives  were  loud  in  praise  of  domesticity. 
While  you  stood  lonely  like  a  matelcss  bird. 
And  when  at  last  the  gabbling  clamour  rose 
To  a  tea-orgy,  a  debauch  of  prose, 
You  seemed  a  piece  of  silver,  newly  minted. 
Among     foul    notes     and    coppers     dulled    and 

dinted. 


I.]  love's     comedy.  347 


You  were  a  coin  imported,  alien,  strange. 
Here  valued  at  anotlier  rate  of  change, 
Not  passing  current  in  that  babel  mart 
Of  poetry  and  butter,  cheese  and  art. 
Then — while    Miss    Jay    in    triumph    took    the 
field— 

SvANHiLD   [gravely]. 

Her  knight  behind  her,  like  a  champion  bold. 
His  hat  upon  his  elbow,  like  a  shield — 

Falk. 

Your  mother  nodded  to  your  untouched  cup: 
"  Drink,   Svanhild  dear,  before  your  tea  grows 

cold." 
And  then  you  drank  the  vapid  liquor  up. 
The  mawkish  brew  beloved  of  3'oung  and  old. 
But  that  name  gripped  me  with  a  sudden  spell; 
The  grim  old  Volsungs  as  they  fought  and  fell. 
With  all  their  faded  a^ons,  seemed  to  rise 
In  never-ending  line  before  my  eyes. 
In  you  I  saw  a  Svanhild,  like  the  old. 
But  fashioned  to  the  modern  age's  mould. 
Sick  of  its  hollow  warfare  is  the  world ; 
Its  lying  banner  it  would  fain  have  furled; 
But  when  the  world  does  evil,  its  offence 
Is  blotted  in  the  blood  of  innocence. 

Svanhild    [with  gentle  irony], 

I  think,  at  any  rate,  the  fumes  of  tea 

Must  answer  for  that  direful  fantasy ; 

But   'tis    your   least   achievement,    past   dispute. 

To  hear  the  spirit  speaking,  when   'tis  mntc. 


348  love's    comedy.  [act  i. 


Falk  [with  emotion]. 

Nay,  Svanhild,  do  not  jest:   behind  your  scoff 
Tears  glitter, — O,  I  see  them  plain  enough. 
And  I  see  more:  when  you  to  dust  are  fray'd, 
And  kneaded  to  a  formless  lump  of  clay, 
Each  bungling  dilettante's  scalpel-blade 
On  you  his  dull  devices  shall  display. 
The  world  usurps  the   creature  of  God's  hand 
And  sets  its  image  in  the  place  of  His, 
Transforms,  enlarges  that  part,  lightens  this ; 
And  when  upon  the  pedestal  you  stand 
Complete,  cries  out  in  triumph:  "Now  she  is 
At  last  what  woman  ought  to  be:  Behold, 
How  plastically  calm,  how  marble-cold ! 
Bathed  in  the  lamplight's  soft  irradiation, 
How  well  in  keeping  with  the  decoration !  " 

[Passionately  seising  her  hand. 

But  if  you  are  to  die,  live  first !     Come  forth 
With  me  into  the  glory  of  God's  earth ! 
Soon,  soon  the  gilded  cage  will  claim  its  prize. 
The  Lady  thrives  there,  but  the  Woman  dies. 
And  I  love  nothing  but  the  Woman  in  you. 
There,  if  they  will,  let  others  woo  and  win  you. 
But  here,  my  spring  of  life  began  to  shoot, 
Here  my  Song-tree  put  forth  its  firstling  fruit; 
Here   I    found  wings   and   flight: — Svanhild,    I 

know  it. 
Only  be  mine, — here  I  shall  grow  a  poet ! 

Svanhild   [in  gentle  reproof,  withdrawing 
her  hajid]. 

O,  why  have  you  betrayed  yourself  ?    How  sweet 
It  was  when  we  as   friends  could   freely  meet! 


ACT  I.]  love's     comedy.  349 


You  should  have   kept   your  coimsel.      Can   we 

stake 
Our  bliss  upon  a  word  that  we  may  break? 
Now  you  have  spoken,  all  is  over. 

Falk. 

No! 
I've  pointed  to  the  goal, — now  leap  with  me, 
My    high-souled    Svanhild — if    you    dare,    and 

show 
That  you  have  heart  and  courage  to  be  free. 

Svanhild. 
Be  free.'' 

Falk. 

Yes,  free,  for  freedom's  all-in-all 
Is  absolutely  to  fulfil  our  Call. 
And    you    by    heaven    were    destined,    I    know 

well, 
To  be  my  bulwark  against  beauty's  spell. 
I,  like  my  falcon  namesake,  have  to  swing 
Against  the  wind,  if  I  would  reach  the  sky ! 
You  are  the  breeze  I   must  be  breasted  by. 
You,  only  you,  put  vigour  in  my  wing: 
Be  mine,   be   mine,   until   the   world    shall    take 

you. 
When  leaves   are  falling,  then   our  paths   shall 

part. 
Sing  unto  me  the  treasures  of  your  heart, 
And  for  each  song  another  song  I'll  make  you; 
So  may  you  pass  into  the  lamp] it  glow 
Of  age,  as  forests  fade  without  a  throe. 


850  love's    comedy.  [act 


SvANHiLD    [with  suppressed   bitterness^. 

I  cannot  thank  you,  for  your  words  betray 
The  meanmg  of  your  kind  solicitude. 
You  eye  me  as  a  boy  a  sallow,  good 
To  cut  and  play  the  flute  on  for  a  day. 

Falk. 

Yes,  better  than  to  linger  in  the  swamp 

Till  autumn  choke  it  with  her  grey  mists  damp ! 

[V  ehemently . 

You  must !  you  shall !     To  me  you  must  present 

What  God  to  you  so  bountifully  lent. 

I  speak  in  song  what  you  in  dreams  have  meant. 

See  yonder  bird  I  innocently  slew, 

Her  warbling  was  Song's  book  of  books  for  you. 

O,  yield  your  music  as  she  yielded  hers ! 

My  life  shall  be  that  music  set  to  verse! 

SVANHILD. 

And  when  you  know  me,  when  my  songs   are 

flown. 
And  my  last  requiem  chanted  from  the  bough, — • 
What  then  ? 

Falk   [observing  her^. 
What  then  ?     Ah  well,  remember  now ! 
[Pointing  to  the  garden. 

SvANHiLD    [genthj]. 
iTes,  I  remember  you  can  drive  a  stone. 


ACT  I.J  love's     comedy.  351 


Falk  [with  a  scornful  laugh]. 
This  is  your  vaunted  soul  of  freedom  therefore ! 
All  daring,  if  it  had  an  end  to  dare  for ! 

[Vehemently. 
I've  shown  you  one;  now,  once  for  all,  your  yea 
Or  nay. 

SvANHILD. 

You  know  the  answer  I  must  make  you: 
I  never  can  accept  you  in  your  way. 

Falk    [coldly,  breaking  off]. 
Then  there's  an  end  of  it;  the  world  may  take 
you! 
[Svanhild  has  silently  turned  away.     She 
supports    her   hands    upon    the   verandah 
railing,  and  rests  her  head  upon  them. 

Falk. 
l^Walks  several  times  up  and  down,  takes  a 
cigar,  stops  near  her  and  says,   after  a 
pause: 
You  think  the  topic  of  my  talk  to-night 
Extremely  ludicrous,   I  should  not  wonder? 

[Pauses    for    an     answer.       Svanhild     is 
silent. 
I'm  very  conscious  that  it  was  a  blunder; 
Sister's  and  daughter's  love  alone  possess  you; 
Henceforth  I'll  Avear  kid  gloves  when  I  address 

you. 
Sure,  so,  of  being  understood  aright. 

[Pauses,  but  as  Svanhild  remains  mo- 
tionless, he  turns  and  goes  towards  the 
right. 


352  love's    comedy.  [act  i. 


SvANHiLD    [lifting   her    head   after   a    brief   si- 
lence, looking  at  him  and  drawing  nearer\. 

Now  I  will  recompense  your  kind  intent 

To  save  me,  with  an  earnest  admonition. 

That  falcon-image  gave  me  sudden  vision 

What  your  "  emancipation  "  really  meant. 

You  said  you  were  the  falcon,  that  must  fight 

Athwart  the  wind  if  it  would  reach  the  sky, 

I  was  the  breeze  you  must  be  breasted  by. 

Else  vain  were  all  your  faculty  of  flight; 

How  pitifully  mean  !     How  paltry  !     Nay 

How  ludicrous,  as  you  yourself  divined ! 

That  seed,  however,  fell  not  by  the  way. 

But  bred  another  fancy  in  my  mind 

Of  a  far  more  illuminating  kind. 

You,  as  I  saw  it,  were  no  falcon,  but 

A  tuneful  dragon,  out  of  paper  cut. 

Whose  Ego  holds  a  secondary  station. 

Dependent  on  the  string  for  animation ; 

Its  breast  was  scrawled  with  promises  to  pay 

In  cash  poetic, — at  some  future  day ; 

The  wings  were  stiff  with  barbs  and  shafts  of  wit 

That  wildly  beat  the  air,  but  never  hit; 

The  tail  was  a  satiric  rod  in  pickle 

To  castigate  the  to^vn's  infirmities. 

But  all  it  compass'd  was  to  lightly  tickle 

The  casual  doer  of  some  small  amiss. 

So  you  lay  helpless  at  my  feet,  imjiloring: 

"  O  raise  me,  how  and  where  is  all  the  same ! 

Give  me  the  power  of  singing  and  of  soaring. 

No  matter  at  what  cost  of  bitter  blame !  " 

Falk    \clenching  his  fsts  in  inward  agitation]. 
Heaven  be  my  witness —  I 


ACT  1.1  love's     comedy.  853 


SVANHILD. 


No,  you  must  be  told: — 
For  such  a  childish  sport  I  am  too  old. 
But    you,    whom    Nature    made    for    high    en- 
deavour. 
Are  you  content  the  fields  of  air  to  tread 
Hanging  your  poet's  life  upon  a  thread 
That  at  my  pleasure  I  can  slip  and  sever? 


Falk    [hurriedly]. 
What  is  the  date  to-day? 

SvANHiLD    [more  gently]. 

Why,  now,  that's  right! 
Mind  well  this  day,  and  heed  it,  and  beware; 
Trust  to  your  own  wings  only  for  your  flight, 
Sure,  if  they  do  not  break,  that  they  will  bear. 
The  paper  poem  for  the  desk  is  fit. 
That  which  is  lived  alone  has  life  in  it; 
That  only  has  the  wings  that  scale  the  height; 
Choose  now  between  them,  poet :  be,  or  write ! 

[Nearer  to  him. 

Now  I  have  done  what  you  besought  me ;  now 
My  requiem  is  chanted  from  the  bough; 
My  only  one ;  now  all  my  songs  are  flown ; 
Now,  if  you  will,  I'm  ready  for  the  stone! 

[She  goes  into  the  house;  Falk  remains 
motionless,  looking  after  her;  far  out  on 
the  fjord  is  seen  a  boat,  from  which  the 
following  chorus  is  faintly  heard: 


354  love's    comedy.  [act 


Chorus. 


My  wings  I  open,  my  sails  spread  wide, 
And  cleave  like  an  eagle  life's  glassy  tide; 

Gulls  follow  my  furrow's  foaming; 
Overboard  with  the  ballast  of  care  and  cark; 
And  what  if  I  shatter  my  roaming  bark, 

It  is  passing  sweet  to  be  roaming! 

Falk   [starting  from  a  reverie^. 

What,  music?     Ah,  it  will  be   Lind's  quartette 
Getting  their  jubilation  up. — Well  met! 

[To   GuLDSTAD,   who   etiters   with   an   over- 
coat on  his  arm. 

Ah,  slipping  off,  sir.'' 


GuLDSTAD. 

Yes,  with  yotir  goodwill. 
But  let  me  first  put  on  my  overcoat. 
We  prose-folks  are  susceptible  to  chill; 
The  night  wind  takes  us  by  the  tuneless  throat. 
Good  evening! 

Falk. 

Sir,  a  word  ere  you  proceed ! 
Show  me  a  task,  a  mighty  one,  you  know — ! 
I'm  going  in  for  life — ! 


GuLDSTAD    [with  ironical  emphasis]. 

Well,  in  you  go ! 
You'll  find  that  you  are  in  for  it,  indeed. 


I.]  love's     comedy.  355 


Falk   [looking  reflectively  at  him,  says  slowly]. 

There  is  my  program,  furnished  in  a  phrase. 

[In  a  lively  outburst. 

Now  I  have  wakened  from  my  dreaming  da}'s, 
I've  cast  the  die  of  life's  supreme  transaction, 
I'll  show  you — else  the  devil  take  me — 

GULDSTAD. 

Fie, 

No  cursing:  curses  never  scared  a  fly. 

Falk. 

Words,  words,  no  more,  but  action,  only  action ! 
I  will  reverse  the  plan  of  the  Creation; — 
Six  days  were  lavish'd  in  that  occupation ; 
My  world's  still  lying  void  and  desolate. 
Hurrah,   to-morrow,   Sunday — I'll   create  ! 

Guldstad   [laughing]. 

Yes,  strip,  and  tackle  it  like  a  man,  that's  right ! 
But  first  go  in  and  sleep  on  it.     Good-night ! 

[Goes  out  to  the  left.  Svanhild  appears 
in  the  room  over  the  verandah;  she  shuts 
the   window   and  dra?vs   down   the   blind. 

Falk. 

No,  first  I'll  act.     I've  slept  too  long  and  late. 

[Looks  up  at  Svanhild's  window,  and  ex- 
claims, as  if  seized  with  a  sudden  reso- 
lution: 


356 


L  O  V  K    S      CO  U  K  1)  Y. 


Good-night !      Good-night !       Sweet    dreams    to- 
night be  thine; 
To-morrow,    Svanhild,  thou   art  plighted   mine ! 

[Goes   out   quickly   to   the   right;  from   the 
rvater  the  Chorus  is  heard  again. 

Chorus. 

Maybe  I  shall  shatter  my  roaming  bark. 
But  it's  passing  sweet  to  be  roaming! 

[The  boat  slowly  glides  arvay  as  the  cur- 
tain falls. 


ACT    SECOND. 

Sunday  afternoon.  Well-dressed  ladies  and 
gentlemen  are  drinking  coffee  on  the  ve- 
randah. Several  of  the  guests  appear 
through  the  open  glass  door  in  the  garden- 
room;  the  following  song  is  heard  from 
within. 

Chorus. 

Welcome,  welcome,  new  plighted  pair 

To  the  merry  ranks  of  the  plighted ! 

Now  you  may  revel  as  free  as  air, 

Caress    without   stint   and   kiss    without   care, — 

No  longer  of  footfall  affrighted. 

Now  you  are  licensed,  wherever  you  go. 
To  the  rapture  of  cooing  and  billing; 
Now  you  have  leisure  love's  seed  to  sow, 
Water,  and  tend  it,  and  make  it  grow; — 
Let  us  see  you've  a  talent  for  tilling ! 

Miss  Jay    [within]. 

Ah  Lind,  if  I  only  had  chanced  to  hear, 
I  would  have  teased  you ! 

A   Lady    [within]. 

How  vexatious  though ! 
3£7 


358  love's    comedy.  [act 


Another  Lady   [in  the  doorway]. 
Dear  Anna,   did  he  ask  in  writing? 

An  Aunt. 

No! 
Miss  Jay. 
Mine  did. 

A  Lady    [on  the  verandah]. 

How  long  has  it  been  secret,  dear? 
[Runs  into  the  room. 

Miss  Jay. 
To-morrow  there  will  be  the  ring  to  choose. 

Ladies    [eagerly]. 
We'll  take  his  measure! 

Miss  Jay. 

Nay;   that  she  must  do. 

Mrs.    Strawman    [on   the   verandah,   to   a   lady 
who  is  busy  with  embroidery]. 

What  kind  of  knitting-needles  do  you  use? 

A  Servant   [in  the  door  with  a  coffee-pot]. 
More  coffee,  madam? 

A  Lady. 

Thanks,  a  drop  or  two. 


ACT  II.]  love's    comedy.  359 

Miss  Jay   [to  Anna]. 
How  fortunate  you've  got  your  new  manteau 
Next  week  to  go  your  round  of  visits  in ! 

An   Elderly   Lady    [at   the  window]. 
When  shall  we  go  and  order  the  trousseau? 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
How  are  they  selling  cotton-bombasine? 

A  Gentleman   [to  some  ladies  on  the 

verandah]. 

Just  look  at  Lind  and  Anna;  what's  his  sport? 

Ladies    [with  shrill  ecstasy]. 
Gracious,  he  kissed  her  glove ! 

Others  [similarly,  springing  up]. 

No!     Kiss'd  it?     Really? 

Lind  [appears,  red  and  embarrassed,  iti  the 

doorway]. 

O,  stuff  and  nonsense !  [Disappears. 

Miss  Jay. 

Yes,   I  saw  it  clearly. 

Stiver 

[in  the  door,  with  a  coffee-cup  tn  one  hand  and 

a  biscuit  in  the  other]. 

The  witnesses  must  not  mislead  the  court; 
I  here  make  affidavit,  they're  in  error. 


360  love's    comedy.  [actii. 

Miss  Jay   [within]. 
Come  forward,  Anna ;  stand  before  this  mirror ! 

Some   Ladies   [calling]. 
You,  too,  Lind ! 

Miss  Jay. 
Back  to  back !     A  little  nearer  ! 

Ladies. 
Come,  let  us  see  by  how  much  she  is  short. 

[All    run    into    the    garden-room;    laughter 

and    shrill    talk    are    heard    for   a    while 

from  within. 
[Falk,    who    during    the    preceding    scene 

has    been    walking   about   in   the  garden, 

advances  into  the  foreground,  stops  and 

looks    in    until    the    noise    has    somewhat 

abated. 

Falk. 
There  love's  romance  is  being  done  to  death. — 
The  butcher  once  who  boggled  at  the  slaughter, 
Prolonging  needlessly  the  ox's  breath, — 
He  got  his  twenty  days  of  bread  and  water; 
But    these — these     butchers     yonder — they     go 

free.  [Clenches  his  fist. 

I    could    be    tempted — ;    hold,    words    have    no 

worth, 
I've  sworn  it,  action  only  from  henceforth ! 

Lind    [coming  hastily   but  cautiously  out]. 
Thank  God,  they're  talking  fashions ;  now's  my 

chance 
To  slip  away — 


ACT  II.]  love's    comedy.  36 1 


Falk. 
Ha,  Lind,  you've  drawn  the  prize 
Of  luck, — congratulations  buzz  and  dance 
All  day  about  you,  like  a  swarm  of  flies. 

Lind. 
They're  all  at  heart  so  kindly  and  so  nice; 
But  rather  fewer  clients  would  suffice. 
Their  helping  hands  begin  to  gall  and  fret  me; 
I'll  get  a  moment's  respite,  if  they'll  let  me. 

[Going  out  to  the  right. 


Falk. 
Lind. 


Whither  away.'' 

Our  den; — it  has  a  lock; 
In  case  you  find  the  oak  is  sported,  knock. 


Falk. 
But  shall  I  not  fetch  Anna  to  you? 

Lind. 

No— 
If  she  wants  anything,  she'll  let  me  know. 
Last  night  we  were  discussing  until  late; 
We've  settled  almost  everything  of  weight; 
Besides  I  think  it  scarcely  goes  with  piety 
To  have  too  much  of  one's  beloved's  society. 

Falk. 
Yes,  you  are  right;  for  daily  food  we  need 
A  simple  diet. 


362  love's    comedy.  [act 


LiND. 

Pray  excuse  me,  friend. 
I  want  a  whifF  of  reason  and  the  weed; 
I  haven't  smoked  for  three  whole  days  on  end. 
My  blood  was  pulsing  in  such  agitation, 
I  trembled  for  rejection  all  the  time — 

Falk. 
Yes,  you  may  well  desire  recuperation — 

LiND. 

And  won't  tobacco's  flavour  be  sublime! 

[Goes  out  to  the  right.  Miss  Jay  and  some 
other  Ladies  come  out  of  the  garden- 
room. 

Miss  Jay   [to  Falk]. 
That  was  he  surely? 

Falk. 

Yes,   your  hunted  deer. 

Ladies. 
To  run  away  from  us  ! 

Others. 

For  shame!     For  shame! 

Falk. 

'Tis  a  bit  shy  at  present,  but,  no  fear, 
A  week  of  servitude  will  make  him  tame. 


ACT  1 1.  J  love's    comedy.  363 


Miss  Jay   [lookirtg  round]. 
Where  is  he  hid? 

Falk. 
His  present  hiding-place 
Is  in  the  garden  loft,  our  common  lair ; 

[Blandly. 
But  let  me  beg  you  not  to  seek  him  there; 
Give  him  a  breathing  time ! 

Miss  Jay. 

Well,  good:  the  grace 
Will  not  be  long,  tho'. 

Falk. 

Nay,  be  generous ! 
Ten  minutes, — then  begin  the  game  again. 
He  has  an  English  sermon  on  the  brain. 

Miss  Jay. 
An  English — ? 

Ladies. 
O  you  laugh  !     You're  fooling  us  ! 

Falk. 
I'm  in  grim  earnest.     'Tis  his  fixed  intention 
To  take  a  charge  among  the  emigrants. 
And  therefore — 

Miss  Jay   [ivith  horror]. 

Heavens,  he  had  the  face  to  mention 
That  mad  idea.''  [To  the  ladies. 

O  quick — fetch  all  the  aunts ! 
Anna,  her  mother,  Mrs.   Strawman  too. 


364  love's    comedy.  [act  ii. 

Ladies    [agitated]. 
This  must  be  stopped ! 

All. 

We'll  make  a  great  ado ! 

Miss  Jay. 
Thank  God,  they're  coming. 

[To  Anna,  who  comes  from  the  garden- 
room  with  Strawman,  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren. Stiver,  Guldstad,  Mrs.  Halm 
and  the  other  guests. 

Miss  Jay. 

Do  you  know  what  Lind 
Has  secretly  determined  in  his  mind? 
To  go  as  missionary — 

Anna. 

Yes,  I  know. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
And  you've  agreed — ! 

Anna   [embarrassed]. 

That  I  will  also  go. 

Miss    Jay    [indignant]. 
He's  talked  this  stuff  to  j^ou! 

Ladies   [clasping  their  hands  together]. 

What  tyranny ! 


.]  love's    comedy.  36t 


P'alk. 
But  think,  his  Call  that  would  not  be  denied — ! 

Miss  Jay. 
Tut,    that's    what    people    follow   when    they're 

free: 
A  bridegroom  follows  nothing  but  his  bride. — 
No,  my  sweet  Anna,  ponder,  I  entreat: 
You,    reared     in     comfort     from     your     earliest 

breath —  ? 

Falk. 
Yet,  sure,  to  suffer  for  the  faith  is  sweet! 

Miss  Jay. 
Is  one  to  suffer  for  one's  bridegroom's  faith? 
That  is  a  rather  novel  point  of  view. 

[To  the  ladies. 
Ladies,  attend! 

[Takes  Anna's  arm. 
Now  listen;  then  repeat 
For  his  instruction  what  he  has  to  do. 

[They  go  into  the  background  and  out  to 
the  right  in  eager  talk  with  several  of 
the  ladies;  the  other  guests  disperse  in 
groups  about  the  garden.  Falk  stops 
Strawman,  whose  wife  and  children 
keep  close  to  him.  Guldstad  goes  to 
and  fro  during  the  following  conversa- 
tion. 

Falk. 

Come,  pastor,  help  young  fervour  in  its  fight, 
Before  they  lure   Miss  Anna   from  her  vows. 


366  love's    comedy.  [act 


Strawman    [iyi  clerical  cadence]. 

The  wife  must  be  submissive  to  the  spouse; — 

[Reflecting. 
But  if  I  apprehended  him  aright, 
His  Call's  a  problematical  aiFair, 
The  Offering  altogether  in  the  air — 

Falk. 

Pray  do  not  judge  so  rashly.     I  can  give 

You  absolute  assurance,  as  I  live. 

His   Call  is  definite  and  incontestable — 

Stravpman   [seeing  it  in  a  new  light]. 

Ah — if  there's  something  fixed — investable — 
Per  annum^ — then  I've  nothing  more  to  say. 

Falk    [impatiently]. 

You  think  the  most  of  what  I  count  the  least; 
I  mean  the  inspiration, — not  the  pay  ! 

Strawman    [with  an  unctuous  smile]. 

Pay  is  the  first  condition  of  a  priest 

In  Asia,  Africa,  America, 

Or  where  you  will.     Ah  yes,  if  he  were  free. 

My  dear  young  friend,  I  willingly  agree. 

The  thing  might  pass ;  but,  being  pledged  and 

bound. 
He'll  scarcely  find  the  venture  very  sound. 
Reflect,  he's  young  and  vigorous,  sure  to  found 
A  little  family  in  time;  assume  his  will 
To  be  the  very  best  on  earth — but  still 


love's    comedy.  367 


The  means,   my    friend — ?      '  Build   not   upon 

the  sand,' 
Says  Scripture.     If,  upon  the  other  hand, 
The  Offering — 

Falk. 
That's  no  trifle,  I'm  aware. 

Strawman. 
Ah,  come — that  wholly  alters  the  affair. 
When  men  are  zealous  in  their  Offering, 
And  liberal — 

Falk. 
There  he  far  surpasses  most. 

Strawman. 
"He"  say  you?      How.''      In  virtue  of  his  post 
The  Offering  is  not  what  he  has  to  bring 
But  what  he  has  to  get. 

jNIrs.  Strawman    [looJnvg  towards   the   back- 
ground] . 

They're  sitting  there. 

Falk    [after   staring   a    moment   in   amazement, 
suddenly   understands   and   bursts   out 
laughing]. 
Hurrah  for  Offerings — tlie  ones  that  caper 
And  strut — on  Holy-days — in  bulging  paper! 

Strawman. 
All  the  year  round  the  curb  and  bit  we  bear. 
But    Whitsuntide    and    Christmas    make    things 
square. 


368  love's    comedy.  [act  ii. 


Falk  [gaily]. 

Why  then,  provided  only  there's  enough  of  it, 
Even  family- founders  will  obey  their  Calls. 

Strawman. 

Of   course;    a   man    assured   the    quantum   suff. 

of  it 
Will  preach  the  Gospel  to  the  cannibals. 

[Sotto  voce. 

Now  I  must  see  if  she  cannot  be  led, 

[To  one  of  the  Utile  girls. 

My  little  Mattie,  fetch  me  out  my  head — 
My  pipe-head  I  should  say,  my  little  dear — 

[Feels  in  his  coat-tail  pocket. 

Nay,  wait  a  moment  tho':  I  have  it  here. 

[Goes  across  and  fills  his  pipe,  followed  hy 
his  wife  and  children. 

GuLDSTAD   [approaching]. 

You  seem  to  play  the  part  of  serpent  in 
This  paradise  of  lovers. 

Falk. 

O,  the  pips 
Upon  the  tree  of  knowledge  are  too  green 
To  be  a  lure  for  anybody's  lips. 

[To  LiND,  who  comes  in  from  the  right. 

Ha,  Lind ! 


ACT  II.]  love's    comedy.  369 


LiND. 

In  heaven's  name,  who's  been  ravaging 
Our  sanctum.''     There  the  lamp  lies  dashed 
To  pieces,  curtain  dragged  to  floor,  pen  smashed. 
And  on  the  mantelpiece  the  ink  pot  splashed — • 

Falk    [clapping  him  on  the  shoulder^. 

This    wreck's    the    first    announcement    of    my 

spring; 
No  more  behind  drawn  curtains  I  will  sit, 
Making  pen  poetry  with  lamp  alit; 
My  dull  domestic  poetising's  done, 
I'll  walk  by  day,  and  glory  in  the  sun: 
My  spring  is  come,  my  soul  has  broken  free, 
Action  henceforth  shall  be  my  poetry. 

LiND. 

Make  poetry  of  what  you  please  for  me; 
But  how  if  Mrs.  Halm  should  take  amiss 
Your  breaking  of  her  furniture  to  pieces? 

Falk. 
Wliat ! — she,   who   lays    her   daughters   and  her 

nieces 
Upon  the  altar  of  her  boarders'  bliss, — 
She  frown  at  such  a  bagatelle  as  this? 

LiND    [angrily^. 

It's  utterly  outrageous  and  unfair, 
And  compromises  me  as  well  as  you ! 
But  that's  her  business,  settle  it  with  her. 
The    lamp    was    mine,    tho',    shade    and    burner 
too— 


370  love's    comedy.  [act  ii. 


Falk. 

Tut,  on  that  head,  I've  no  account  to  render; 
You  have  God's  summer  sunshine  in  its  splen- 
dour,— 
What  would  you  with  the  lamp? 

LiND. 

You  are  grotesque; 
You  utterly  forget  that  summer  passes ; 
If  I'm  to  make  a  figure  in  my  classes 
At  Christmas  I  must  buckle  to  my  desk. 

Falk    [staring  at   him]. 
What,  you  look  forward? 

LiND. 

To  be  sure  I  do. 
The  examination's  amply  worth  it  too. 

Falk. 

Ah  but — you  '  only  sit  and  live  ' — remember ! 
Drunk  with  the  moment,  you  demand  no  more — 
Not  even  a  modest  third-class  next  December. 
You've    caught   the    bird    of    Fortune    fair    and 

fleet, 
You  feel  as  if  the  world  with  all  its  store 
Were  scattered  in  profusion  at  your  feet. 

LiND. 

Those  were  my  words ;  they  must  be  understood. 
Of  course,  cum  grano  salis — 


ACT  II.]  love's    comedy.  371 


Falk. 

Very  good ! 

LiND. 

In  the  forenoons  I  will  enjoy  my  bliss; 
That  I  am  quite  resolved  on — 


Falk. 


LiND. 


Daring  man ! 


I  have  my  round  of  visits  to  the  clan; 
Time  will  run  anyhow  to  waste  in  this; 
But  any  further  dislocation   of 
My  study-plan   I   strongly  disapprove. 

Falk. 

A  week  ago,  however,  you  were  bent 

On  going  out  into  God's  world  with  song, 

LiND. 

Yes,  but  I  thought  the  tour  a  little  long; 

The  fourteen  days  might  well  be  better  spent. 

Falk. 

Nay,  but  you  had  another  argument 

For  staying;   how  the   lovely   dale  for  you 

Was  mountain  air  and  winged  warble  too. 

LiND. 

Yes,  to  be  sure,  this  air  is  unalloyed; 

But  all  its  benefits  may  be  enjoyed 

Over  one's  book  without  the  slightest  bar. 


372  love's    comedy.  [act  ii. 


Falk. 

But  it   was   just  the   Book  which   failed,  you 

see. 
As  Jacob's  ladder — 

LiND. 

How  perverse   you   are ! 
That  is  what  people  say  when  they  are  free— 

Falk 
[looking  at  him.  and  folding  his  hands  in  silent 

amazement^. 
Thou  also,  Brutus ! 

LiND    [with  a  shade  of  confusion  and 
annoi/ance]. 
Pray  remember,  do ! 
That  I  have  other  duties  now  than  you; 
I  have  my  fiancee.     Every  plighted  pair, 
Those  of  prolonged  experience  not  excepted, — 
Whose  evidence  you  would  not  wish  rejected, — 
Will  tell  you,  that  if  two  are  bound  to  fare 
Through  life  together,  they  must — 

Falk. 

Prithee  spare 
The  comment;  who  supplied  it.'' 

LiND. 

Well,  we'll  say 
Stiver,  he's  honest  surely;   and   ]\Iiss  Jay, 
Who  has  such  very  great  experience  here. 
She  says — 


ACT  II.]  love's    comedy.  373 


Falk. 
Well,  but  the  Parson  and  his — dear? 

LiND. 

Yes,  they're   remarkable.      There  broods   above 
Them  such  placidity,  such  quietude, — 
Conceive,  she  can't  remember  being  wooed. 
Has  quite  forgotten  what  is  meant  by  love. 

Falk. 
Ah  yes,  when  one  has  slumber'd  over  long, 
The  birds  of  memory  refuse  their  song. 

[Laying  Iiis  hand  on  Lind's  shoulder,  with 
an  ironical  look. 
You,  Lind,  slept  sound  last  night,  I  guarantee? 

LiND. 

And  long.     I  went  to  bed  in  such  depression. 
And  yet  with  such  a  fever  in  my  brain, 
I  almost  doubted  if  I  could  be  sane. 

Falk. 
Ah  yes,  a  sort  of  witchery,  you  see. 

Lind. 
Thank  God  I  woke  in  perfect  self-possession. 

[During  the  foregoing  scene  Strawman 
has  been  seen  from  time  to  time  walking 
in  the  background  in  lively  conversation 
with  Anna;  Mrs.  Strawman  and  the 
children  follow.  Miss  Jay  now  appears 
also,  and  with  her  Mrs.  Halm  and  other 
ladies. 


374  love's    comedy.  [act  ii. 


Miss  Jay  [before  she  enters^. 
Ah,  Mr.  Lind. 

LiND    [to    Falk]. 

They're  after  me  again ! 
Come;  let  us  go. 

Miss  Jay. 

Nay,  nay,  you  must  remain, 
Let  us  make  speedy  end  of  the  division 
That  has  crept  in  between  your  love  and  you. 

Lind. 
Are  we  divided.'' 

Miss  Jay    [pointing  to  Anna,   who  is  standing 
further   off   in    the  garden]. 

Gather  the  decision 
From  yon  red  eyes.     The  foreign  mission  drew 
Those  tears. 

Lind. 

But  heavens,  she  was  glad  to  go — 

Miss   Jay    (sco^ng]. 

Yes,  to  be  sure,  one  would  imagine  so! 
No,  my  dear  Lind,  you'll  take  another  view 
When    you    have    heard    the    whole    affair    dis- 
cussed; 

Lind. 

But  then  this  warfare  for  the  faith,  you  know. 
Is  my  most  cherished  dream ! 


love's    comedy.  375 


Miss  Jay. 

O  wlio  would  build 
On  dreaming  in  this  century  of  light? 
Why,  Stiver  had  a  dream  the  other  night; 
There  came  a  letter  singularly  scaled — 

Mrs.   Strawman. 
It's   treasure   such  a  dream   prognosticates. 

Miss  Jay  [uodcling]. 
Yes,  and  next  day  they  sued  him  for  the  rates. 
l^The  ladies  make  a  circle  round  Lind  ayid 
go    in    conversation    with    him    into    the 
garden. 

Strawman    {continuing,   to   Anna,  who  faintly 

tries  to  escape]. 
From  these  considerations,  daughter  mine, 
From  these  considerations,  buttressed  all 
With  reason,  morals,  and  the  Word  Divine, 
You  now  perceive  that  to  desert  your  Call 
W^ere  absolutely  inexcusable. 

Anna   [half  crying]. 
Oh!     I'm  so  young — 

Strawman. 

And  it  is  natural, 
I  own,  that  one  should  tremble  to  essay 
These  perils,  dare  the  lures  that  there  waylay; 
But   from   doubt's   tangle   you   must  now   break 

free, — 
Be  of  good  cheer  and  follow  Moll  and  me ! 


376  love's    comedy.  [act  ii. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
Yes,  your  dear  mother  tells  me  that  I  too 
Was  just  as  inconsolable  as  you 
When  we  received  our  Call — 

Strawman. 

And  for  like  cause — 
The  fascination  of  the  town — it  was; 
But  when  a  little  money  had  come  in, 
And  the  first  pairs  of  infants,  twin  by  twin. 
She  quite  got  over  it. 

Falk   [sotto  voce  to  Strawman]. 
•  Bravo,  you  able 
Persuader. 

Strawman   [nodding  to  him  and  turning  again 
to  Anna]. 
Now  you've  promised  me,  be  stable. 
Shall  man  renounce  his  work.''      Falk  says  the 

Call 
Is  not  so  very  slender  after  all. 
Did  you  not,  Falk.'' 

Falk. 

Nay,  pastor — 

Strawman. 

To  be  sure — ! 
[To  Anna. 
Of  something  then  at  least  3'ou  are  secure. 
What's   gained  by  giving  up.  if  that  is   so? 
Look  back  into  the  ages  long  ago. 


ACT  II.]  love's    comedy.  377 


See,  Adam,  Eve — the  Ark,  see,  pair  by  pair. 

Birds  in  the  field — the  lilies  in  the  air. 

The  little   birds — the  little   birds — the   fishes — 

[^Continues   in   a   lower   tone,   as   he    with- 
draws with  Anna. 

[Miss    Jay    and    the    Aunts    return    with 

LiND. 

Falk. 

Hurrah  !     Here  come  the  veterans  in  array ; 
The  old  guard  charging  to  retrieve  the  day ! 

Miss  Jay. 

Ah,  in  exact  accordance  with  our  wishes ! 

[Aside. 
We  have  him,  Falk! — Now  let  us  tackle  her  ! 

[Approaches  Anna. 

Strawman    [with    a    deprecating    motion]. 

She  needs  no  secular  solicitation ; 
The    Spirit    has    spoken,    what    can    Earth    be- 
stead—  ? 

[Modestly. 
If  in  some  small  degree  my  words  have  sped. 
Power  was  vouchsafed  me — ! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Come,  no  more  evasion, 
Bring  them  together ! 

Aunts    [with   emotion]. 

Ah,  how  exquisite ! 


378  love's    comedy.  [act  ii. 


Strawman. 
Yes,  can  there  be  a  heart  so  dull  and  dead 
As  not  to  be  entranced  at  such  a  sight! 
It  is  so  thrilling  and  so  penetrating, 
So  lacerating,  so  exhilarating, 
To  see  an  innocent  babe  devoutly  lay 
Its  oiFering  on  Duty's  altar. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Nay, 
Her  family  have  also  done  their  part. 

Miss  Jay. 
I  and  the  Aunts — I  should  imagine  so. 
You,  Lind,  may  have  the  key  to  Anna's  heart, 

[^Presses  his  hand. 
But  we  possess  a  picklock,  you  must  know. 
Able  to  open  where  the  key  avails  not. 
And    if    in    years    to    come,    cares    throng    and 

thwart, 
Only  apply  to  us,  our  friendship  fails  not. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Yes,  we  shall  hover  round  you  all  your  life, — 

Miss  Jay. 
And  shield  you  from  the  fiend  of  wedded  strife. 

Strawman. 
Enchanting  group !      Love,   friendship,   hour   of 

gladness, 
Yet  so  pathetically  touched  with  sadness. 

I  Turning  to  I.ind. 


love's    comedy.  379 


But  now,  young  man,  pray  make  an  end  of  tliis. 

[Leading  Anna  to  him. 

Take  thy  betrothed — receive  her — with  a  kiss  ! 

LiND   {giving  his  hand  to  Anna]. 
I  stay  at  home ! 

Anna   \at  the  same  moment^. 
I  go  with  you! 

Anna   \amazed\. 
You  stay? 

LiND    [equally  so]. 

You  go  with  me? 

Anna   [with  a  helpless  glance  at  the  company]. 
Wliy,  then,  we  are  divided  as  before ! 

LiND. 

What's  this? 

The  Ladies. 
What  now? 

Miss  Jay    [excitedly]. 

Our  wills  are  all  at  war — 

Strawman. 

She  gave  her  solemn  word  to  cross  the  sea 
With  him ! 


380  love's    comedy.  [act  ii. 

Miss  Jay. 

And  he  gave  his  to  stay  ashore 
With  her ! 

Falk    [laughing]. 

They  both  complied;  what  would  you  more! 

Strawman. 
These  complications  are  too  much  for  me. 

[Goes  towards  the  background. 

Aunts   [to  one  another]. 
How  in  the  world  came  they  to  disagree.^ 

Mrs.  Halm 

[To  GuLDSTAD  and  StiveRj  who  have  been 
walking  in  the  garden  and  now  approach. 
The  spirit  of  discord's  in  possession  here. 

[^Talks  aside  to  them. 

Mrs.   Strawman 

[To  Miss   Jay,  noticing  that  the  table  is 
being  laid. 
There  comes  the  tea. 

Miss  Jay   [curtly]. 

Thank  heaven. 

Falk. 

Hurrah !  a  cheer 
For  love  and  friendship,  maiden  aunts  and  tea ! 


ACT  II.]  love's    comedy.  381 


Stiver. 

But  if  the  case  stands  thus,  the  whole  proceed- 
ing 

May  easily  be  ended  with  a  laugh; 

All  turns  upon  a  single  paragraph, 

Which  bids  the  wife  attend  the  spouse.  No 
pleading 

Can  wrest  an  ordinance  so  clearly  stated — 

Miss  Jay. 
Doubtless,  but  does  that  help  us  to  agree? 

Strawman. 
She  must  obey  a  law  that  heaven  dictated. 

Stiver. 
But  Lind  can  circumvent  that  law,  you  see. 

[To  Lind. 
Put  off  your  journey,  and  tlien — budge  no  jot. 

Aunts    [delighted]. 
Yes,  that's  the  way ! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Agreed ! 

Miss  Jay. 

That  cuts  the  knot. 
[SvANHiLD  and  the  maids  have  meantime 
laid  the  tea-table  beside  the  verandah 
steps.  At  Mrs.  Halm's  invitation  the 
ladies  sit  down.  The  rest  of  the  com- 
pany take  their  places,  partly  on  the  ve- 


382  love's    comedy.  [act  ii. 


randah  and  in  the  summer-house^  partly 
in  the  garden.  Falk  sits  on  the  veran- 
dah. During  the  following  scene  they 
drink  tea. 

Mrs.  Halm   [smiling]. 
And  so  our  little  storm  is  overblown. 
Such  summer  showers   do  good  when  they  are 

gone; 
The  sunshine  greets  \is  with  a  double  boon. 
And  promises  a  cloudless  afternoon. 

Miss  Jay. 
Ah  yes,  Love's  blossom  without  rainy  skies 
Would  never  thrive  according  to  our  wishes. 

Falk. 
In  dry  land  set  it,  and  it  forthwith  dies; 
For  in  so  far  the  flowers  are  like  the  fishes — 

SVANHILD. 

Nay,  for  Love  lives,  you  know,  upon  the  air — = 

Miss  Jay. 
Which  is  the  death  of  fishes — 

Falk. 

So  I  say. 

Miss  Jay. 
Aha,  we've  put  a  bridle  on  you  there ! 

Mrs.   Strawman. 
The  tea  is  good,  one  knows  by  the  bouquet. 


ACT  II.]  love's    comkdy.  383 


Falk. 

Well,  let  us  keep  the  simile  you  chose. 
Love  is  a  flower;  for  if  heaven's  blessed  rain 
Fall  short,  it  all  but  pines  to  death —      [Pauses. 

Miss  Jay. 

What  then  ? 

Falk    [with  a  gallant  horr]. 

Then  come  the  aunts  with  the  reviving  hose. — ■ 

But  poets  have  this  simile  employed, 

And  men  for  scores  of  centuries  enjoyed, — 

Yet  hardly  one  its  secret  sense  has  hit; 

For  flowers  are  manifold  and  infinite. 

Say,  then,  what  flower  is  love?     Name  me,  who 

knows. 
The  flower  most  like  it.'' 

Miss  Jay. 

Why,  it  is  the  rose; 
Good  gracious,  that's  exceedingly  well  known ; — 
Love,  all  agree,  lends  life  a  rosy  tone. 

A  Young  Laoy. 

It  is  the  snowdroj};  growing,  snow  cnfurled; 
Till  it  peer  forth,  undreamt  of  by  the  world. 

An  Aunt. 

It  is  the  dandelion, — made  robust 
By  dint  of  lunnan  heel  and  liorse  hoof  thrust; 
Nay,  shooting  forth  afresli  wlicn  it  is  smitten. 
As  Pedersen  so  charmingly  has  written. 


884  love's    comedy.  [act  ii, 

LiND. 

It  is  the  bluebell, — ringing  in  for  all 
Young  hearts  life's  joyous  Whitsun  festival. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
No,  'tis  an  evergreen, — as  fresh  and  gay 
In  desolate  December  as  in  May. 

GULDSTAD. 

No,  Iceland  moss,  dry  gathered, — far  the  best 
Cure  for  young  ladies  with  a  wounded  breast. 

A  Gentleman. 
No,  the  wild  chestnut  tree, — in  high  repute 
For  household  fuel,  but  with  a  bitter  fruit. 

SVANHILD. 

No,  a  camellia;   at  our  balls,   'tis   said. 
The  chief  adornment  of  a  lady's  head. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
No,  it  is  like  a  flower,  O  such  a  bright  one ; — 
Stay  now — a  blue  one,  no,  it  was  a  white  one — 
What    is    its    name — .''      Dear   me — the    one    I 

met — ; 
Well  it  is  singular  how  I  forget! 

Stiver. 
None  of  these  flower  similitudes  will  run. 
The  flowerpot  is  a  likelier  candidate. 
There's  only  room  in  it,  at  once,   for  one; 
But  by  progressive  stages  it  holds  eight. 


ACT  1 1.  J  love's    comedy.  385 


Strawman    [with  his  little  girls  round  him]. 

No,  love's  a  pear  tree;  in  the  spring  like  snow 
With  myriad  blossoms,  which  in  summer  grow 
To  pearlets ;  in  the  parent's  sap  each  shares ; — 
And    with    God's    help    they'll    all    alike    prove 
pears. 

Falk. 

So  many  heads,  so  many  sentences ! 
No,  you  all  grope  and  blunder  off  the  line. 
Each  simile's  at  fault;  I'll  tell  you  mine; — 
You're  free  to  turn  and  wrest  it  as  you  please. 

[Rises  as  if  to  make  a  speech. 
In  the  remotest  east  there  grows  a  plant; 
And  the  sun's  cousin's  garden  is  its  haunt — 

The  Ladies. 
Ah,  it's  the  tea-plant? 

Falk. 
Yes. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 

His  voice  is  so 
Like  Strawman's  when  he — 

Strawman. 

Don't   disturb   his    flow. 

Falk. 

It  has  its  home  in   fabled  lands  serene; 
Thousands  of  miles  of  desert  lie  between; — 


386  love's    comedy,  [act  ii. 


Fill  U13,  Lind  ! — So. — Now  in  a  tea-oration, 
I'll  show  of  tea  and  Love  the  true  relation. 

\^The  guests  cluster  round  hini„ 

It  has  its  home  in  the  romantic  land; 
Alas,  Love's  home  is  also  in   Romance, 
Only  the  Sun's  descendants  understand 
The   herb's   right  cultivation  and  advance. 
With  Love  it  is  not  otherwise  than  so. 
Blood  of  the  Sun  along  the  veins  must  flow 
If  Love  indeed  therein  is  to  strike  root. 
And  burgeon  into  blossom,  into  fruit. 

Miss  Jay. 

But  China  is  an  ancient  land;  you  hold 
In  consequence  that  tea  is  very  old— 

Strawman. 
Past  question  antecedent  to  Jerusalem. 

Falk. 

Yes,  'twas  already  famous  when  Methusalem 
His  picture-books  and  rattles  tore  and  flung — 

Miss  Jay    [triumphantly]. 

And  Love  is  in  its  very  nature  young ! 
To  find  a  likeness  there  is  pretty  bold. 

Falk. 

No;  Love,  in  truth,  is  also  very  old; 
That  principle  we  here  no  more  dispute 
Than  do  the  folks  of  Rio  or  Beyrout. 


.]  love's    comedy.  387 


Nay,  there  are  those  from  Cayenne  to  Caithness, 
Who  stand  upon  its  everlastingness ; — 
Well,  that  may  be  a  slight  exaggeration, 
But  old  it  is  beyond  all  estimation. 

Miss  Jay. 
But  Love  is  all  alike;  whereas  we  see 
Both  good  and  bad  and  middling  kinds  of  tea ! 

Mrs.   Strawman. 
Yes,  they  sell  tea  of  many  qualities. 

Anna. 
The  green  spring  shoots  I  count  the  very  first — 

SVANHILD. 

Those  serve  to  quench  celestial  daughters'  thirst. 

A  Young  Lady. 
Witching  as  ether  fumes  they  say  it  is — 

Another. 
Balmy  as  lotus,  sweet  as  almond,  clear — 

GULDSTAD. 

That's  not  an  article  we  deal  in  here. 

Falk   [who  has  meanwhile  come  down  from  the 

verandah]. 
Ah,  ladies,  every  mortal  has  a  small 
Private  celestial  empire  in  his  heart. 
There  bud  such  shoots  in  thousands,  kept  apart 
By  Shyness's  soon  shatter'd  Chinese  Wall. 


38S  love's    comedy.  [act 


But  in  her  dim  fantastic  teniiole  bower 

The  little  Chinese  puppet  sits  and  sighs, 

A  dream  of  far-off  wonders  in  her  eyes — 

And  in  her  hand  a  golden  tulip  flower. 

For  her  the  tender  firstling  tendrils  grew; — 

Rich  crop  or  meagre,  what  is  that  to  you."* 

Instead  of  it  we  get  an  after  crop 

They   kick    the    tree    for,    dust    and    stalk    and 

stem, — 
As  hemp  to  silk  beside  what  goes  to  them — 

GULDSTAD. 

That  is  the  black  tea. 

Falk    [nodding]. 

That's   what   fills   the  shop. 

A  Gentleman. 

There's  beef  tea  too,  that  Holberg  says  a  word 
of— 

Miss  Jay   [sharply]. 

To  modern  taste  entirely  out  of  date. 

Falk. 

And  a  beef  love  has  equally  been  heard  of, 
Wont — in  romances— to  brow-beat  its  mate. 
And  still  they  say  its  trace  may  be  detected 
Amongst  the  henpecked  of  the  married  state. 
In   short  there's   likeness   where   'twas   least  ex- 
pected. 


I.]  love's    comedy,  389 


So,  as  jou  know,  an  ancient  proverb  tells. 

That  something  ever  passes  from  the  tea 

Of  the  bouquet  that  lodges  in  its  cells, 

If  it  be  carried  hither  over  sea. 

It  must  across  the  desert  and  the  hills, — 

Pay  toll  to  Cossack  and  to  Russian  tills ; — 

It  gets  their  stamp  and  licence,  that's  enough. 

We  buy  it  as  the  true  and  genuine  stuff. 

But  has  not  Love  the  self-same  path  to  fare? 

Across    Life's    desert.''      LIow   the   world   would 

rave 
And  shriek  if  you  or  I  should  boldly  bear 
Our  Love  by  way  of  Freedom's  ocean  wave ! 
"  Good  heavens,  h.is  moral  savour's  passed  away, 
"  And  quite  dispersed  Legality's  bouquet !  " — 

Strawm AN    [  rising] . 

Yes,  happily, — in  every  moral  land 
Such  wares  continue  to  be  contraband! 


Falk. 

Yes,    to    pass    current    here.    Love    must    have 

cross'd 
The  great  Siberian  waste  of  regulations, 
Fann'd  by  no  breath  of  ocean  to  its  cost; 
It  must  produce  official  attestations 
From  friends  and  kindred,  devils  of  relations. 
From  church  curators,  organist  and  clerk. 
And  other  fine  folks- — over  and  above 
The  primal  licence  which  God  gave  to  Love. — 
And   then   the   last   great   point   of   likeness; — 

mark 


390  love's    comedy.  [act 


How  heavily  the  hand  of  culture  weighs 

Upon  that  far  Celestial  domain; 

Its  power  is  shatter'd,  and  its  wall  decays, 

The  last  true  Mandarin's  strangled;  hands  pro- 
fane 

Already  are  put  forth  to  share  the  spoil; 

Soon  the  Sun's  realm  will  be  a  legend  vain. 

An  idle  tale  incredible  to  sense; 

The  world  is  gray  in  gray — we've  flung  the  soil 

On  buried  Faery, — we  have  made  her  mound. 

But  if  we  have, — then  where  can  Love  be  found? 

Alas,  Love  also  is  departed  hence ! 

[Lifts  his  cup. 

Well  let  him  go,  since  so  the  times  decree; — 

A  health  to  Amor,  late  of  Earth, — in  tea ! 

[He    drains    his    cup;    indignant    murmurs 
amongst  the  company. 

Miss  Jay. 
A  very  odd  expression  !     "  Dead  "  indeed ! 

The  Ladies. 
To  say  that  Love  is  dead — ! 

Strawman. 

Why,  here  you  see 
Him  sitting,  rosy,  round  and  sound,  at  tea. 
In  all  conditions !     Here  in  her  sable  weed 
The  widow — 

Miss  Jay. 
Here  a  couple,  true  and  tried, — 

Stiver. 
With  many  ample  pledges  fortified. 


I.]  love's      COMEDY.  391 


GULDSTAD. 

Then  Love's  light  cavalry,  of  maid  and  man. 
The  plighted  pairs  in  order — 

Strawman. 

In  the  van 
The  veterans,  whose  troth  has  laughed  to  scorn 
The  tooth  of  Time — 

Miss   Jay    [hastily   interrupting]. 

And  then  the  babes  new-born — 
The  little  novices  of  yester-morn — 

Strawman. 

Spring,  summer,  autimm,  winter,  in  a  word. 
Are  here;  the  truth  is  patent,  past  all  doubt. 
It    can    be    clutched    and    handled,    seen    and 
heard, — 

Falk. 
What  then? 

Miss  Jay. 
And  yet  you  want  to  thrust  it  out! 

Falk. 

Madam,  you  quite  mistake.     In  all  I  spoke 

I  cast  no  doubt  on  anything  you  claim ; 

But  I  would  fain  remind  3'ou  that,  from  smoke. 

We  cannot  logically  argue  flame. 

That  men  are  married,  and  have  children,  I 

Have  no  desire  whatever  to  deny; 

Nor  do  I  dream  of  doubting  that  such  things 

Are  in  the  world  as  troth  and  wedding-rings; 


892  love's    comedy.  [act 


That  billets-doux  some  tender  hands  indite 
And    seal    with    pairs    of    turtle    doves    that — 

fight; 
That  sweethearts  swarm  in  cottage  and  in  hall, 
That  chocolate  rewards  the  wedding-call; 
That  usage  and  convention  have  decreed, 
In  every  point,  how  "  Lovers  "  shall  proceed: — 
But,  heavens!     We've  majors  also  by  the  score, 
Arsenals  heaped  with  muniments  of  war. 
With  spurs  and  howitzers  and  drums  and  shot, 
But  what  does  that  permit  us  to  infer? 
That  we  have  men  who  dangle  swords,  but  not 
That   they    will    wield    the    weapons    that   they 

wear. 
Tho'    all    the    plain    with    gleaming   tents    you 

crowd. 
Does  that  make  heroes  of  the  men  they  shroud? 

Strawman. 

Well,  all  in  moderation;  I  must  own. 
It  is  not  quite  conducive  to  the  truth 
That  we  should  paint  the  enamourment  of  youth 
So  bright,  as  if — ahem — it  stood  alone. 
Love-making  still  a  frail  foundation  is. 
Only  the  snuggery  of  wedded  bliss 
Provides  a  rock  where  Love  may  builded  be 
In  unassailable  security. 

Miss  Jay, 

There  I  entirely  differ.     In  my  view, 
A  free  accord  of  lovers,  heart  with  heart, 
Who  hold  together,  having  leave  to  part, 
Gives  the  best  warrant  that  their  love  is  true. 


ACT  1 1.  J  love's    comedy.  393 


Anna    [warmlt/]. 

O  no — Love's  bond  when  it  is  fresh  and  young 
Is  of  a  stuff  more  precious  and  more  strong. 

LiND  [thoughtfully]. 

Possibly  the  ideal  flower  may  blow, 

Even  as  that  snowdrop, — hidden  by  the  snow. 

Falk    [with  a  sudden   outburst]. 

You  fallen  Adam !     There  a  heart  was  cleft 
With  longing  for  the  Eden  it  has  left! 

LiND. 

What  stuff! 

Mrs.  Halm   [offended,  to  Falk,  rising]. 

'Tis  not  a  very  friendly  act 
To  stir  a  quarrel  where  we've  made  a  peace. 
As  for  your  friend's  good  fortune,  be  at  ease — 

Some  Ladies. 
Nay  that's  assured — 

Others. 

A  very  certain  fact. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

The  cooking-class  at  school,  I  must  confess. 
She  did  not  take;  but  she  shall  learn  it  still. 


SQ'ii  love's    comedy.  [actii. 


Miss  Jay. 


With   her   own   hands    she's   trimming  her   own 
dress 

An  Aunt    [patting  Anna's   hand]. 
And  growing  exquisitely  sensible. 

Falk    [laughing  aloud]. 
O  parody  of  sense,  that  rives  and  rends 
In  maniac  dance  upon  the  lips  of  friends ! 
Was  it  good  sense  he  wanted?     Or  a  she- 
Professor  of  the  lore  of  Cookery? 
A  joyous  son  of  springtime  he  came  here. 
For  the  wild  rosebud  on  the  bush  he  burned. 
You  reared  the  rosebud  for  him ;  he  returned — 
And  for  his  rose  found  what?     The  hip! 

Miss  Jay  [offended]. 

You  jeer! 
Falk. 
A  useful  household  condiment,  heaven  knows ! 
But  yet  the  hip  was  not  his  bridal  rose. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
O,  if  it  is  a  ball-room  queen  he  wants, 
I'm  very  sorry;  these  are  not  their  haunts, 

Falk. 
O  yes,  I  know  the  pretty  coquetry 
They  carry  on  with  "  Domesticity." 
It  is  a  suckling  of  the  mighty  Lie 
That,  like  hop-tendrils,  spreads  itself  on  high. 


ACT  II.]  love's    comedy.  395 


I,  madam,  reverently  bare  my  head 

To  the  ball  queen ;  a  child  of  beauty  she — 

And  the  ideal's  golden  woof  is  spread 

In  ball-rooms,  hardly  in  the  nursery. 

Mrs.    Halm    [with   suppressed  bitterness^. 

Your  conduct,  sir,  is  easily  explained; 
A  plighted  lover  cannot  be  a  friend; 
That  is  the  kernel  of  the  whole  affair; 
I  have  a  very  large  experience  there. 

Falk. 
No  doubt, — v/ith  seven  nieces,  each  a  wife — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
And  each  a  happy  wife — 

Falk    [with  emphasis]. 

Ah,  do  we  know.^ 


How! 

Mr.  Falk! 


Dissension  ? 


guldstad. 
Miss  Jay. 

LiND. 

Are  you  resolved  to  sow 


Falk    [vehemently]. 
Yes,  war,  discord,  turmoil,  strife! 


396  love's    comedy.  [act  II. 

Stiver. 
What  you,  a  lay,  profane  outsider  here ! 

Falk. 

No  matter,  still  the  battle-flag  I'll  rear ! 
Yes,  it  is  war  I  mean  with  nail  and  tooth 
Against  the  Lie  with  the  tenacious  root. 
The  lie  that  you  have  fostered  into  fruit. 
For  all  its  strutting  in  the  guise  of  truth! 

Stiver. 

Against  these  groundless  charges  I  protest, 
Reserving  right  of  action — 

Miss  Jay. 

Do  be  still! 
Falk. 

So  then  it  is  Love's  ever-rimning  rill 

That  tells  the  widow  what  she  once  possess'd, — 

That  very  Love  tliat,  in  the  days  gone  by. 

Out    of    her    language    blotted    "  moan "     and 

"  sigh  " ! 
So  then  it  is  Love's  brimming  tide  that  rolls 
Along  the  placid  veins  of  wedded  souls, — 
That  very  Love  that  faced  the  iron  sleet, 
Trampling  inane  Convention  under  feet. 
And  scoffing  at  the  impotent  discreet ! 
So  then  it  is  Love's  beauty-kindled  flame 
That  keeps  the  plighted  from  the  taint  of  time 
Year  after  year !     Ah  yes,  the  very  same 
That    made    our    young    bureaucrat    blaze    in 

rhyme ! 


ACT  II. J  love's    comedy.  397 

So  it  is  Love's  young  bliss  that  will  not  brave 

The  voyage  over  vaulted  Ocean's  Wave, 

But  asks  a  sacrifice  when,  like  the  sun, 

Its  face  should  fill  with  glory,  making  one! 

Ah  no,  you  vulgar  prophets  of  the  Lie, 

Give  things  the  names  we  ought  to  know  them 

by; 
Call  widows'  passion — wanting  what  they  miss, 
And  wedlock's  habit — call  it  what  it  is! 


Strawman. 

Young  man,  this  insolence  has  gone  too  far ! 
In  every  word  there's  scoffing  and  defiance. 

[Goes  close  up  to  Falk. 
Now  I'll  gird  up  my  aged  loins  to  war 
For  hallowed  custom  against  modern  science ! 

Falk. 
I  go  to  battle  as  it  were  a  feast! 

Strawman. 
Good !     For  your  bullets  I  will  be  a  beacon : — 

[Nearer. 
A  wedded  pair  is  holy,  like  a  priest — 

Stiver   [at  Falk's  other  side]. 
And  a  betrothed — 

Falk. 

Half-holy,  like  the  deacon. 


398  love's    comedy,  [actii. 


Strawman. 

Behold      these      children ;  —  see,  —  this      little 

throng ! 
lo  triumphe  may  for  them  be  sung ! 
How  was  it  possible — how  practicable — ; 
The  words  of  truth  are  strong,  inexorable; — 
He  has  no  hearing  whom  they  cannot  move. 
See, — every  one  of  them's  a  child  of  Love — ! 

[Stops  in  confusion. 

That  is — you  understand — I  would  have  said — ! 

Miss  Jay   [fanning  herself  with  her  hand- 
kerchief]. 

This  is  a  very  mystical  oration ! 

Falk. 

There    you    yourself    provide    the    demonstra- 
tion,— 
A  good  old  Norse  one,  sound,  true-born,  home- 
bred. 
You  draw  distinction  between  wedded  pledges 
And  those  of  Love:  your  Logic's  without  flaw. 
They  are  distinguished  just  as  roast  from  raw. 
As  hothouse  bloom  from  wilding  of  the  hedges ! 
Love  is  with  us  a  science  and  an  art; 
It  long  since  ceased  to  animate  the  heart. 
Love  is  with  us  a  trade,  a  special  line 
Of  business,  with  its  union,  code  and  sign; 
It  is  a  guild  of  married  folks  and  plighted, 
Past-masters  with  apprentices  united; 
For  they  cohere  compact  as  jelly-fishes, 
A  singing-club  their  single  want  and  wish  is — 


ACTii.l  love's    comedy.  399 


GULDSTAD. 

And  a  gazette! 

Falk. 

A  good  suggestion^  yes  ! 
We  too  must  have  our  organ  in  the  press. 
Like  ladies,  athletes,  boys,  and  devotees. 
Don't  ask  the  price  at  present,  if  you  please. 
There  I'll  parade  each  amatory  fetter 
That  John  and  Thomas  to  our  town  unites, 
There  publish  every  pink  and  perfumed  letter 
That  William  to  his  tender  Jane  indites ; 
There     you    shall    read,     among     "  Distressing 

Scenes  " — 
Instead  of  murders  and  burnt  crinolines, 
The  broken  matches  that  tlie  week's  afforded ; 
There  under  "  goods  for  sale  "  you'll  find  what 

firms 
Will  furnish  cast-off  rings  on  easy  terms; 
There  double,  treble  births  will  be  recorded; 
No  wedding,  but  our  rallying  rub-a-dub 
Shall  drum  to  the  performance  all  the  club; 
No  suit  rejected,  but  we'll  set  it  down. 
In  letters  large,  with  other  news  of  weight 
Thus:   "Amor-Moloch,  we  regret  to  state. 
Has  claimed  anotlier  victim  in  our  town." 
You'll  see,  we'll  catch  subscribers :  once  in  sight 
Of   the   propitious   season   when  they  bite. 
By  way  of  throwing  them  the  bait  they'll  brook 
I'll  stick  a  nice  yoimg  man  upon  my  hook. 
Yes,  you  will  see  me  battle  for  our  cause, 
Witli   tiger's,  nay  with   editorial,  claws 
Rendirifl:  tliem— 


400  love's    comedy.  [actii. 


GULDSTAD. 

And  the  paper's  name  will  be — ? 

Falk. 
Amor's  Noree  Chronicle  of  Archery. 

Stiver    [going  nearer]. 

You're  not  in  earnest,  you  will  never  stake 
Your  name  and  fame  for  such  a  fancy's  sake ! 

Falk. 

I'm  in  grim  earnest.     We  are  often  told 
Men  cannot  live  on  love;  I'll  show  that  this 
Is  an  untenable  hypothesis ; 
For  Love  will  prove  to  be  a  mine  of  gold: 
Particularly  if  Miss  Jay,  perhaps, 
Will    Mr.    Strawman's    "  Life's    Romance "    un- 
fold, 
As  appetising  feuilleton,  in  scraps. 

Strawman  [in  terror]. 

Merciful     heaven!        My     "life's     romance!" 

What,  what! 
When  was  my  life  romantic,  if  you  please? 

Miss  Jat. 
I  never  said  so. 

Stiver. 
Witness  disagree*. 


ACT  II.]  love's    comedy.  401 


Strawman. 


That  I  have  ever  swerved  a  single  jot 
From  social   prescript, — is  a   monstrous   lie. 

Falk. 
Good. 

l^Clapping  Stiver  on  the  shoulder. 

Here's  a  friend  who  will  not  put  me  by. 
We'll  start  with  Stiver's  lyric  ecstasies. 

Stiver  [after  a  glance  of  horror  at  Strawman]. 

Are  you  quite  mad  !     Nay  then  I  must  be  heard ! 
You  dare  accuse  me  for  a  poet — 

Miss  Jay. 

How—! 

Falk. 
Your  office  has  averred  it  anyhow. 

Stiver    [in  torvering  anger]. 
Sir,  by  our  office  nothing  is  averred. 

Falk. 

Well,  leave  me  then,  you  also:  I  have  by  me 

One  comrade  yet  whose  loyalty  will  last. 

■'  A  true  heart's  story  "  Lind  will  not  deny  me. 

Whose  troth's  too  tender  for  the  ocean  blast. 

Who  for  his  mistress  makes  surrender  of 

His  fellow-men — pure  quintessence  of  Love ! 


402  love's    comedy.  [actii. 


Mrs.  Halm. 


My  patience,  Mr.  Falk,  is  now  worn  out. 
The  same  abode  no  longer  can  receive  us : — 
I  beg  of  you  this  very  day  to  leave  us — 

Falk  [with  a  bow  as  Mrs.  Halm  and  the  com- 
pany  with  draw  ] . 

That  this  would  come  I  never  had  a  doubt! 

Strawman. 

Between  us  two  there's  battle  to  the  death ; 
You've  slandered  me,  my  wife,  my  little  flock. 
From  Molly  down  to  Millie,  in  one  breath. 
Crow  on,  crow  on — Emancipation's  cock, — 

[Goes  in,  followed  by  his  wife  and  children. 

Falk. 

And  go  you  on  observing  Peter's  faith 

To  Love  your  lord — who,  thanks  to  your  advice, 

Was  thrice  denied  before  the  cock  crew  thrice ! 

Miss  Jay    [turning  faint]. 

Attend  me.  Stiver !  help  me  get  unlaced 

My  corset — this  way,  this  way — do  make  haste ! 

Stiver    [to  Falk    as   he   withdraws   with   Miss 
Jay  on  his  arm]. 

I  here  renounce  your  friendship. 

LiND. 

I  likewise. 


ACT  II.]  love's    comedy.  403 


Falk    [seriously]. 
You  too,  my  Lind? 

LiND. 

Farewell. 

Falk. 

You  were  my  nearest  one — 

Lind. 
No  help,  it  is  the  pleasure  of  my  dearest  one. 

[He    goes     in:     Svanhild     has     remained 
standing  on  the  verandah  steps. 

Falk. 
So,  now  I've  made  a  clearance,  have  free  course 
In  all  directions ! 

Svanhild. 
Falk,  one  word  with  you ! 

Falk   [pointing  politely  to  the  house]. 
That  way.  Miss  Halm; — that  way,  with  all  the 

force 
Of  aunts  and  inmates,  Mrs.   Halm  withdrew. 

Svanhild    [nearer   to   him]. 
Let  them  withdraw;  their  ways  and  mine  divide; 
I  will  not  swell  the  number  of  their  band. 

Falk. 

You'll  stay.'' 


404  love's    comedy.  [act  ii. 


SVANHILD. 


If  you  make  war  on  lies,  I  stand 
A  trusty  armour-bearer  by  your  side. 

Falk. 
You,  Svanhild,  you  who — 

SVANHILD. 

I,  who — yesterday — -? 
Were  you  yourself,  Falk,  yesterday  the  same? 
You  bade  me  be  a  sallow,  for  your  play. 

Falk. 

And  a  sweet  sallow  sang  me  into  shame. 
No,  you  are  right:  I  was  a  child  to  ask; 
But  you  have  fired  me  to  a  nobler  task. 
Right    in    the    midst    of    men    the    Church    is 

founded 
Where     Truth's     appealing     clarion     must     be 

soimded 
We  are  not  called,  like  demigods,  to  gaze  on 
The  battle  from  the  far-off  mountain's  crest. 
But  in  our  hearts  to  bear  our  fiery  blazon. 
An  Olaf's  cross  upon  a  mailed  breast, — 
To  look  afar  across  the  fields  of  flight, 
Tho'  pent  within  the  mazes  of  its  might, — 
Beyond  the  mirk  descry  one  glimmer  still 
Of  glory— that's  the  Call  yve  must  fulfil. 

Svanhild. 

And  you'll  fulfil  it  when  you  break  from  men. 
Stand  free,  alone, — 


ACT  II.]  love's    comedy.  405 


Falk. 

Did  I  frequent  them  then? 
And  there  lies  duty.     No,  that  time's  gone  by, — 
My  solitary  compact  with  the  sky. 
My  four-wall-chamber  poetry  is  done; 
My  verse  shall  live  in  forest  and  in  field, 
I'll  fight  under  the  splendour  of  the  sun; — 
I  or  the  Lie — one  of  us  two  must  yield ! 

SVANHILD. 

Then   forth  with   God   from   Verse  to   Derring- 

doe ! 
I  did  you  wrong:  you  have  a  feeling  heart; 
Forgive  me, — and  as  good  friends  let  us  part — 

Falk. 

Nay,  in  my  future  there  is  room  for  two ! 
"We  part  not.     Svanhild,  if  you  dare  decide. 
We'll  battle  on  together  side  by  side. 

Svanhild. 
We  battle? 

Falk. 
See,  I  have  no  friend,  no  mate. 
By  all  abandoned,  I  make  war  on  all: 
At  me  they  aim  the  piercing  shafts  of  hate; 
Say,  do  you  dare  with  me  to  stand  or  fall? 
Henceforth  along  the  beaten  walks  I'll  move 
Heedful  of  each  constraining  etiquette; 
Spread,  like  the  rest  of  men,  my  board,  and  set 
The  ring  upon  tlie  finger  of  my  love ! 

[Takes  a   ring  from   his  finger  and  holds 
it  up. 


406  love's    comedy.  [actii. 


SvANHiLD    [in  hreatldess  suspense^. 
You  mean  that? 

Falk. 
Yes,  by  us  the  world  shall  see. 
Love  has  an  everlasting  energy, 
That  suffers  not  its  splendour  to  take  hurt 
From    the    day's    dust,    the    common    highway's 

dirt. 
Last  night  I  showed  j'ou  the  ideal  aflame. 
Beaconing  from  a  dizzy  mountain's  brow. 
You  shuddered,  for  you  were  a  woman, — now 
I  show  you  woman's  veritable  aim ; — 
A  soul  like  yours,  what  it  has  vowed,  will  keep. 
You  see  the  abyss  before  you, — Svanhild,  leap ! 

SvANHiLD    \ahnost   inaudibly]. 
If  we  should  fail — ! 

Falk    [exulting]. 

No,  in  your  eyes  I  see 
A  gleam  that  surely  prophesies  our  winning ! 

Svanhild. 
Then  take  me  as  I  am,  take  all  of  me ! 
Now  buds  the  young  leaf;  now  my  spring's  be- 
ginning! 
[She  flings  herself  boldly  into  his  arms  as 
the  curtain  falls. 


ACT    THIRD. 

Evening.  Bright  moonlight.  Coloured  lanterns 
are  hung  about  the  trees.  In  the  back- 
ground are  covered  tables  with  bottles, 
glasses,  biscuits,  etc.  From  the  house, 
which  is  lighted  up  from  top  to  bottom, 
subdued  music  and  singing  are  heard  dur- 
ing the  following  scene.  Svanhild  stands 
on  the  verandah.  P'alk  comes  from  the 
right  with  some  books  and  a  portfolio 
under  his  arm.  The  Porter  follows  with 
a  portmanteau  and  a  knapsack. 

Fal"k. 

That's  all,  then? 

Porter. 
Yes,  sir,  all  is   in  the  pack. 
But  just  a  satchel,  and  the  paletot. 

Falk. 
Good;  when  I  go,  Fll  take  them  on  my  back. 
Now  off.     See,  this  is  the  portfolio. 

Porter. 
It's  locked,  I  see. 

Falk. 

Locked,  Peter. 

407 


408  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


Porter. 

Good,  sir. 


Falk. 
Make  haste  and  burn  it. 


Pray; 


Porter, 

Burn  it? 

Falk. 

YeSj  to  ash — 

[^Smiling. 
With  every  draft  upon  poetic  cash; 
As  for  the  books,  you're  welcome  to  them. 

Porter. 

Nay, 
Such  payment  is  above  a  poor  man's  earning. 
But,  sir,  I'm  thinking,  if  you  can  bestow 
Your  books,  you  must  have  done  with  all  your 
learning .'' 

Falk. 
Whatever  can  be  learnt  from  books  I  know. 
And  rather  more. 

Porter. 

More?     Nay,  that's  hard,   I  doubt! 

Falk. 
Well,  now  be  off;  the  carriers  wait  without. 
Just  help  them  load  the  barrow  ere  you  go. 

[The  Pouter  goes  out  to  the  left. 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  409 


Falk    [approaching  Svanhild  who  comes  to 
meet   Am]. 

One  moment's  ours,  my  Svanhild,  in  the  light 
Of  God  and  of  the  lustrous  summer  night. 
How  the  stars  glitter  thro'  the  leafage,  see, 
Like  bright  fruit  hanging  on  the  great  world- 
tree. 
Now  slavery's  last  manacle  I  slip. 
Now  for  the  last  time  feel  the  wealing  whip; 
Like  Israel  at  the  Passover  I  stand, 
Loins  girded  for  the  desert,  staff  in  hand. 
Dull  generation,  from  whose  sight  is  hid 
The  Promised  Land  beyond  that  desert  flight, 
Thrall  tricked  with  knighthood,  never  the  more 

knight, 
Tomb  thyself  kinglike  in  the  Pyramid, — 
I  cross  the  barren  desert  to  be  free. 
My  ship  strides  on  despite  an  ebbing  sea; 
But  there  the  Legion  Lie  shall  find  its  doom, 
And  glut  one  deep,  dark,  hollow-vaulted  tomb. 

[A  short  pause;  he  looks  at  her  and  takes 
her  hand. 

You  are  so  still! 


Svanhild. 

So  happy  !     Suffer  me, 
O  suffer  me  in  silence  still  to  dream. 
Speak  you  for  me;  my  budding  thoughts,  grown 

strong. 
One  after  one  will  burgeon  into  song. 
Like  lilies  in  the  bosom  of  the  stream. 


410  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


Falk. 

O  say  it  once  again,  in  truth's  pure  tone 
Beyond  the  fear  of  doubt^  that  thou  art  mine ! 
O  say  it,  Svanhild,  say — 

SvANHiLD    [throwing  herself  on  liis  necJc^. 
Yes,  I  am  thine ! 

Falk. 

Thou  singing-bird  God  sent  me  for  my  own ! 

Sv^ANHILD. 

Homeless  within  my  mother's  house  I  dwelt, 
Lonely  in  all  I  thought,  in  all  I  felt, 
A  guest  unbidden  at  the  feast  of  mirth, — 
Accounted   nothing — less   than   nothing — worth. 
Then    you    appeared !       For    the    first    time    I 

heard 
My  own  thought  uttered  in  another's  word; 
To  my  lame  visions  you  gave  wings  and  feet — 
You  young  unmasker  of  the  Obsolete ! 
Half  with   your   caustic  keenness   you   alarmed 

me. 
Half  with  your  radiant  eloquence  you  charmed 

me. 
As  sea-girt  forests  summon  with  their  spell 
The  sea  their  flinty  beaches  still  repel. 
Now  I  have  read  the  bottom  of  your  soul. 
Now  you  have  won  me,  imdivided,  whole; 
Dear  forest,  wliere  my  tossing  billows  beat. 
My  tide's  at  flood  and  never  will  retreat! 


I.]  love's    comedy.  411 


Falk. 
And  I  thank  God  that  in  the  bath  of  Pain 
He  purged  my  love.     What  strong  compulsion 

drew 
Me  on  I  knew  not,  till  I  saw  in  you 
The  treasure  I  had  blindly  sought  in  vain. 
I  praise  Him,  who  our  love  has  lifted  thus 
To  noble  rank  by  sorrow, — licensed  us 
To  a  triumphal  progress,  bade  us  sweep 
Thro'  fen  and  forest  to  our  castle-keep, 
!A  noble  pair,  astride  on  Pegasus ! 

SvANHiLD    [pointifig  to  the  house]. 
The  whole  house,  see,  is  making  feast  to-night. 
There,  in  their  honour,  every  room's  alight. 
There  cheerful  talk  and  joyous  song  ring  out; 
On  the  highroad  no  passer-by  will  doubt 
That  men  are  happy  where  they  are  so  gay. 

[With  compassion. 
Poor  sister ! — happy  in  the  great  world's  way ! 

Falk. 
**  Poor  "  sister,  say  you .'' 

SVANHILI>. 

Has  she  not  divided 
With  kith  and  kin  the  treasure  of  her  soul. 
Her  capital  to  fifty  hands  confided. 
So  that  not  one  is  debtor  for  the  whole? 
From  no  one  has  she  all  things  to  receive. 
For  no  one  has  she  utterly  to  live. 

0  beside  my  wealth  lirrs  is  little  worth; 

1  have  but  one  possession  upon  earth. 


412  love's    comedy.  [act  iii. 


My  heart  was  lordless  when  with  trumpet  blare 
And  multitudinous  song  you  came,  its  king, 
The  banners  of  my  thought  your  ensign  bear. 
You  fill  my  soul  with  glory,  like  the  spring. 
Yes,  I  must  needs  thank  God,  when  it  is  past. 
That  I  was  lonely  till  I  found  out  thee, — 
That  I  lay  dead  until  the  trumpet  blast 
Waken'd  me  from  the  world's  frivolity. 

Falk. 
Yes  we,  who  have  no  friends  on  earth,  we  twain 
Own  the  true  wealth,  the  golden  fortune, — we 
Who  stand  without,  beside  the  starlit  sea, 
And  watch  the  indoor  revel  thro'  the  pane. 
Let  the  lamp  glitter  and  the  song  resound. 
Let  the  dance  madly  eddy  round  and  round; — 
Look  up,  my  Svanhild,  into  yon  deep  blue, — 
There  glitter  little  lamps  in  thousands,  too — 

Svanhild. 
And  hark,  beloved,  thro'  the  limes  there  floats 
This  balmy  eve  a  chorus  of  sweet  notes — 

Falk. 
It  is  for  us  that  fretted  vault's  aglow — 

Svanhild. 
It  is  for  us  the  vale  is  loud  below ! 

Falk. 
I  feel  myself  like  God's  lost  prodigal; 
I  left  Him  for  the  world's  delusive  cliarms. 
With  mild  reproof  He  wooed  me  to  His  arms; 
And  when  I  come.  He  lights  the  vaulted  hall. 


ACT  III.]          love's    comedy.  413 

Prepares  a  banquet  for  the  son  restored. 
And  makes  His  noblest  creature  my  reward. 
From    this    time    forth    I'll    never    leave    that 

Light,— 
But  stand  its  armed  defender  in  the  fight; 
Nothing  shall  part  us,  and  our  life  shall  prove 
A  song  of  glory  to  triumphant  love ! 

SVANHILD. 

And  see  how  easy  triumph  is  for  two. 
When  he's  a  man — 

Falk. 
She,  woman  thro'  and  thro'; — 
It  is  impossible  for  such  to  fall ! 

SVANHILD. 

Then  up,  and  to  the  war  with  want  and  sorrow; 
This  very  hour  I  will  declare  it  all ! 

[Pointing  to  Falk's  ring  on  her  finger. 

Falk   [hastily]. 
No,  Svanhild,  not  to-night,  wait  till  to-morrow ! 
To-night  we  gather  our  young  love's  red  rose; 
'Twere  sacrilege  to  smirch  it  with  the  prose 
Of  common  day. 

[The  door  into  the  garden-room  opens. 
Your  motlier's  coming  !     Hide  ! 
No  eye  this  night  shall  see  thee  as  my  bride ! 

[They  go  out  among  the  trees  by  the  sum- 
mer-house. Mrs.  Halm  and  Guldstad 
come  out  on  the  balcony. 


414  love's    comedy.  [actiiIo 


Mrs.   Halm. 
He's  really  going? 

GULDSTAD. 

Seems  so,  I  admit. 

Stiver   [coming]. 
He's  going,  madam ! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

We're  aware  of  it! 

Stiver. 

A  most  unfortunate  punctilio. 
He'll  keep  his  word ;  his  stubbornness  I  know. 
In  the  Gazette  he'll  put  us  all  by  name; 
My  love  will  figure  under  leaded  headings. 
With  jilts,  and  twins,  and  countermanded  wed- 
dings. 
Listen ;  I  tell  you,  if  it  weren't  for  shame, 
I  would  propose  an  armistice,  a  truce — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
You  think  he  would  be  willing? 

Stiver. 

I  deduce 
The  fact  from  certain  signs,  which  indicate 
That  his  tall  talk  about  his  Amor's  News 
W^as  uttered  in  a  far  from  sober  state. 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  415 


One  proof  especially,  if  not  transcendent, 
Yet  tells  most  heavily  against  defendant: 
It  has  been  clearly  proved  that  after  dinner 
To  his  and  Lind's  joint  chamber  he  withdrew, 
And  there  displayed  such  singular  demeanour 
As  leaves  no  question — 

GuLDSTAD. 

[Sees  a  glimpse  of  Falk  and  Svanhild, 
who  separate,  Falk  going  to  the  back- 
ground; SvANiiiLD  remains  staiiding 
hidden  by  the  summer-house. 

Hold,  we  have  the  clue ! 
Madam,  one  word ! — Falk  does  not  mean  to  go, 
Or  if  he  does,  he  means  it  as  a  friend. 

Stiver. 
How,  you  believe  then — ? 

Mrs.  Halm. 

What  do  you  intend? 

Gl'LDSTAD. 

With  the  least  possible  delay  I'll  show 
That  matters  move  precisely  as  you  would. 
Merely  a  word  in  private — 

Mrs.   Halm. 

Very  good. 
\They  go  together  into  the  garden  and  are 
seen  from  time  to  time  in  lively  conver- 
sation. 


41 6  lovk's    comedy.  [act  III. 

Stiver 

[Descending  into  the  garden  discovers 
Falk,  who  is  standing  by  the  water  and 
gazing  over  it. 

These  poets  are  mere  men  of  vengeance,  we 
State  servants  understand  diplomacy. 
I  need  to  labour  for  myself — 

[Seeing  Strawman,  who  enters  from  the 
garden-room. 

Well  met! 

Strawman    [on  the  verandah]. 

He's  really  leaving!         [Going  down  to  Stiver. 

Ah,  my  dear  sir,  let 
Me  beg  you  just  a  moment  to  go  in 
And  hold  my  wife — 

Stiver. 

I — hold  her,  sir.'' 


Strawman. 


I  mean 


In  talk.     The  little  ones  and  we  are  so 
Unused  to  be  divided,  there  is  no 
Escaping — 

[His  wife  and  children  appear  in  the  door. 
Ha !  already  on  my  trail. 

Mrs.   Strawman. 
Where  are  you,  Strawman? 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  41? 


Strawman  [aside  to  Stiver]. 

Do  invent  some  tale, 
Something  amusing — something  to  beguile! 

Stiver   [going  on  to  the  verandah]. 

Pray,  madam,  have  you  read  the  official  charge? 
A  masterpiece  of  literary  style. 

[Takes  a  book  from  his  pocket. 
Which  I  shall  now  proceed  to  cite  at  large. 

[Ushers  her  politely  into  the  room,  and  fol- 
lows himself.  Falk  comes  forward;  he 
and  Strawman  meet;  they  regard  one 
another  a  moment  in  silence. 


WeU? 

Well.? 


Strawman. 

Falk. 

Strawman. 
Falk! 


Falk. 

Pastor ! 

Strawman. 

Are  you  less 
intractable  than  when  we  parted? 

Falk. 

Nay, 
I  go  my  own  inexorable  way — 


418  love's    comedy.  [act  in. 


Strawman. 
Even  tho'  voh  crush  another's  happiness? 

Falk. 
I  plant  the  flower  of  knowledge  in  its  place. 

[Smiling. 
If,  by  the  way,  you  have  not  ceased  to  think 
Of  the  Gazette — 

Strawman. 
Ah,  that  was  all  a  joke.'' 

Falk. 

Yes,  pluck  up  courage,  that  will  turn  to  smoke; 
I  break  the  ice  in  action,  not  in  ink. 

Strawman. 

But  even  though  you  spare  me,  sure  enough 
There's  one  who  won't  so  lightly  let  me  off; 
He  has  the  advantage,  and  he  won't  forego  it, 
That  lawyer's  clerk — and  'tis  to  you  I  owe  it; 
You  raked  the  ashes  of  our  faded  flames. 
And  you  may  take  your  oath  he  won't  be  still 
If  once  I  mutter  but  a  syllable 
Against  the  brazen  bluster  of  his  claims. 
These  civil-service  gentlemen,  they  say. 
Are  very  potent  in  the  press  to-day. 
A  trumpery  paragraph  can  lay  me  low, 
Once  printed  in  that  Samson-like  Gazette 
That  with  the  jaw  of  asses  fells  its  foe. 
And  runs  away  with  tackle  and  with  net. 
Especially  towards  the  quarter  day — 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  419 


Falk    [acquiescing]. 
Ah,  were  there  scandal  in  the  case,  indeed — 

Strawman    [despotidently]. 

No  matter.     Read  its  columns  with  good  heed. 
You'll  see  me  offered  up  to  Vengeance. 


Falk    [whimsicalli/] . 


Nay, 


To  retribution — well-earned  punishment. 
Thro'  all  our  life  there  runs  a  Nemesis, 
Which  may  delay,  but  never  will  relent. 
And  grants  to  none  exception  or  release. 
Who  wrongs  the  Ideal  .^     Straight  there  rushes 

in 
The  Press,  its  guardian  with  the  Argus  eye. 
And  the  offender  suffers  for  his  sin. 


Strawman. 

But  in  tlie  name  of  heaven,  what  pledge  have  I 
Given  this  "  Ideal  "  that's  ever  on  your  tongue? 
I'm  married,  have  a  familj'^,  twelve  young 
And  helpless  innocents  to  clothe  and  keep; 
I  have  my  daily  calls  on  every  side, 
Churches  remote  and  glebe  and  pasture  wide. 
Great  herds  of  breeding  cattle,  ghostly  sheep — 
All  to  be  watched  and  cared  for,  dipt  and  fed, 
Grain  to  be  winnowed,  compost  to  be  spread; — 
Wanted  all  day  in  shippon  and  in  stall, 
What  time  iiave  I  to  serve  the  "  Ideal  "  withal? 


4(20  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


Falk. 

Then  get  you  home  with  what  dispatch  you  may^ 
Creep  snugly  in  before  the  winter-cold; 
Lookj  in  young  Norway  dawns  at  last  the  day, 
Thousand    brave    hearts    are    in    its    ranks    en- 

roll'd, 
Its  banners  in  the  morning  breezes  play ! 

Strawman. 

And  if,  young  man,  I  were  to  take  my  way 
With  bag  and  baggage  home,  with  everything 
That  made  me  yesterday  a  little  king. 
Were  mine  the  only  volte  face  to-day  ? 
Think  you  I  carry  back  the  wealth  I  brought? 

l^As  Falk  is  about  to  answer. 

Nay,  listen,  let  me  first  explain  my  thought. 

[^Coming  nearer. 

Time   was    when   I    was   young,    like    you,    and 

played 
Like  you,  the  unconquerable  Titan's  part; 
Year  after  year  I  toiled  and  moiled  for  bread. 
Which  hardens  a  man's  hand,  but  not  his  heart. 
For  northern  fells  my  lonely  home  surrounded. 
And    by    my    parish    bounds    my    world    was 

bounded. 
My  home — Ah,  Falk,  I  wonder,  do  you  know 
What  home  is? 

Falk   [curthj]. 
I  have  never  known. 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  421 

Strawman. 

Just  so. 

That  is  a  home,  where  five  may  dwell  with  ease, 

Tho'  two  would  be  a  crowd,  if  enemies. 

That  is   a  home,  where   all  your  thoughts  play 
free 

As  boys  and  girls  about  their  father's  knee. 

Where    speech    no    sooner    touches    heart,    than 
tongue 

Darts  back  an  answering  harmony  of  song; 

Where  you  may  grow   from  flax-haired  snowy- 
polled, 

And  not  a  soul  take  note  that  you  grow  old; 

Where  memories  grow  fairer  as  they  fade. 

Like  far  blue  peaks  beyond  the  forest  glade. 

Falk    [with  constrained  sarcasm^. 
Come,  you  grow  warm — 

Strawman. 
Where  you  but  jeered  and  flouted. 
So  utterly  unlike  God  made  us  two ! 
I'm  bare  of  that  he  lavished  upon  you. 
But    I    have    won    the    game    where    you    were 

routed. 
Seen    from    the    clouds,    full    many    a    wayside 

grain 
Of  truth  seems  empty  chaff"  and  husks.     You'd 

soar 
To  heaven,  I  scarcely  reach  the  stable  door. 
One  bird's  an  eagle  born — 

F^LK. 

And  one  a  hen. 


422  love's    comedy.  [i 


Strawman. 
Yes,  laugh  awny,  and  say  it  be  so,  grant 
1  am  a  hen.     Tliere  clusters  to  my  cluck 
A  crowd  of  little  chickens, — which  you  want! 
And  I've  the  hen's  high  spirit  and  her  pluck. 
And  for  my  little  ones  forget  myself. 
You  think  me  dull,  I  know  it.     Possibly 
You  pass  a  harsher  judgment  yet,  decree 
Me  over  covetous  of  worldly  pelf. 
Good,  on  that  head  we  will  not  disagree. 

l^Seiees  Falk's  arm  and  continues  in  a  low 

tone  but  with  gathering  vehemence. 
You're  right,  I'm  dull  and  dense  and  grasping, 

yes; 
But  grasping  for  my  God-given  babes  and  wife. 
And  dense  from  struggling  blindly  for  bare  life. 
And  dull  from  sailing  seas  of  loneliness. 
Just  when  the  pinnace  of  my  youthful  dream 
Into  the  everlasting  deep  went  down. 
Another  started  from  the  ocean  stream 
Borne  with  a  fair  wind  onward  to  life's  crown. 
For  every  dream  that  vanished  in  the  wave. 
For  every  buoj'^ant  plume  tliat  broke  asunder, 
God  sent  me  in  retxirn  a  little  Wonder, 
And   gratefully   I  took  the  good   He  gave. 
For  them  I  strove,  for  them  amassed,  annexed, — 
P'or  them,  for  them,  explained  the  Holy  text; 
My  clustering  girls,  my  garden  of  delight! 
On  tliem  you've  poured  the  venom  of  your  spite ! 
You've    proved,    with    all    the    cunning    of    the 

scliools. 
My  bliss  was  but  the  paradise  of  fools. 
That  all  I  took  for  earnest  was  a  jest; — 
Now    T   in!j)]ore,  give  me  my  quiet  breast 
Again,  the  flawless  peace  of  mind  I  had — ■ 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  423 


Falk. 
Prove,  in  a  word,  your  title  to  be  glad? 

Strawman. 

Yes,  in  my  path  you've  cast  the  stone  of  doubt, 
And  nobody  but  you  can  cast  it  out. 
Between  my  kin  and  me  you've  set  a  bar, — 
Remove  the  bar,  the  strangling  noose  undo — 

Falk. 

You  possibly  believe  I  keep  the  glue 
Of  lies  for  Happiness's  broken  jar.-* 

Strawman. 

I  do  believe,  the  faith  your  reasons  tore 
To  shreds,  your  reasons  may  again  restore; 
The  limb  that  you  have  shatter'd,  you  can  set; 
Reverse   vour  judgment, — the   whole  truth   un- 
fold. 
Restate  the  case — I'll  fly  my  banner  yet — 

Falk    [haughtilt/] . 
I  stamp  no  copper  Happiness  as  gold. 

Strawman  [looking  fixedly  at  him]. 

Remember  then  tliat,  lately,  one  whose  scent 
For  truth  is  of  the  keenest  told  us  this: 

[With  uplifted  finger, 

"  There  runs  through  all  our  life  a  Xemesis, 
Which  may  delay,  but  never  will  relent." 

[He  goes  towards  the  house. 


424  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 

Stiver 

l^Co7ning  out  with  glasses  on,  and  an  open 
book  in  his  hand. 

Pastor,  you  must  come  flying  like  the  blast! 
Your  girls  are  sobbing — 


The  Children   [in  the  doorway]. 
Pa! 

Stiver. 

And  Madam  waiting! 

[Strawman  goes  in. 

This  lady  has  no  talent  for  debating. 

[Puts  the  book  and  glasses  in  his  pocket, 
and  approaches  Falk. 
Falk! 

Falk. 
Yes! 

Stiver. 

I  hope  you've  changed  your  mind  at  last? 

Falk. 
Why  so? 

Stiver. 

For  obvious   reasons.      To  betray 
Communications  made  in  confidence. 
Is  conduct  utterly  without  defence. 
They  must  not  pass  the  lips. 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  425 


Falk. 

No,  I've  heard  say 
It  is  at  times  a  risky  game  to  play. 

Stiver. 
The  very  devil! 

Falk. 
Only  for  the  great. 

Stiver    [zealously]. 
No,  no,  for  all  us  servants  of  the  state. 
Only  imagine  how  my  future  chances 
Would  dwindle,  if  the  governor  once  knew 
I  keep  a  Pegasus  that  nciglis  and  prances 
In  office  hours — and  such  an  office,  too ! 
From  first  to  last,  you  know,  in  our  profession. 
The  winged  horse  is  viewed  with  reprobation: 
But  worst  of  all  would  be,  if  it  got  wind 
That  I  against  our  primal  law  had  sinn'd 
By  bringing  secret  matters  to  the  light — 

Falk. 
That's  penal,  is  it — such  an  oversight? 

Stiver  [mysteriouslij]. 
It  can  a  servant  of  the  state  compel 
To  beg  for  his  dismissal  out  of  hand. 
On  us  officials  lies  a  strict  command. 
Even  by  the  hearth  to  be  inscrutable. 

Falk. 
O  those  despotical  authorities. 
Muzzling  the — clerk  that  treadeth  out  the  grain ! 


426  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


Stiver    [shrugging  his   shoulders^. 
It  is  the  law;  to  murmur  is  in  vain. 
Moreover,  at  a  moment  such  as  this. 
When  salary  revision  is  in  train. 
It  is  not  well  to  advertise  one's  views 
Of  office  time's  true  function  and  right  use. 
That's  why  I  beg  you  to  be  silent;  look, 
A  word  may  forfeit  my — 


Falk. 


Portfolio? 


Stiver. 
Officially  it's  called  a  transcript  book; 
A  protocol's  the  clasp  upon  the  veil  of  snow 
That  shrouds  the  modest  breast  of  the  Bureau. 
What  lies  beneath  you  must  not  seek  to  know. 

Falk. 
And  yet  I  only  spoke  at  your  desire; 
You  hinted  at  your  literary  crop. 

Stiver. 
How  should  I  guess  he'd  grovel  in  the  mire 
So  deep,  this  parson  perch'd  on  fortune's  top, 
A  man  with  snug  appointments,  children,  wife, 
And  money  to  defy  the  ills  of  life? 
If  sucli  a  man  prove  such  a  Philistine, 
What  shall  of  us  poor  copyists  be  said? 
Of  me,  who  drive  the  quill  and  rule  the  line, 
A  man  engaged  and  shortly  to  be  wed. 
With  family  in  prospect — and  so  forth? 

[More  vehemently. 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  42? 


O,  if  I  only  had  a  well-lined  berth, 

I'd  bind  the  armour'd  helmet  on  my  head, 

And  cry  defiance  to  united  earth ! 

And  were  I  only  unengaged  like  you, 

Trust  me,  I'd  break  a  road  athwart  the  snow 

Of  Prose,  and  carry  the  Ideal  through ! 

Falk. 
To  work  then,  man ! 

Stiver. 
How? 

Falk. 

You  may  still  do  so! 
Let  the  world's  prudish  owl  unheeded  flutter  by ; 
Freedom  converts  the  grub  into  a  butterfly ! 

Stiver   [stepping  back]. 
You  mean,  to  break  the  engagement — ? 

Falk. 

That's  my  mind; — 
The  fruit  is  gone,  why  keep  the  empty  rind.'' 

Stiver. 
Such  a  proposal's  for  a  green  young  shoot. 
Not  for  a  man  of  judgment  and  repute. 
I  heed  not  wliat  King  Christian  in  his  time 
(The     Fifth)     laid    down     about    engagements 

brokcn-off ; 
For  that  relationship  is  nowhere  spoken  of 
In  any  rubric  of  the  code  of  crime. 
The  act  would  not  be  criminal  in  name, 
It  would  in  no  way  violate  the  laws — 


428  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


Falk. 
Why  tliere,  you  see  then! 

Stiver    [firmly]. 

Yes,  but  all  the  same, — 
I  must  reject  all  pleas  in  such  a  cause. 
Staunch    comrades    we    have   been    in    times    of 

dearth ; 
Of  life's  disport  she  asks  but  little  share. 
And  I'm  a  homely  fellow,  long  aware 
God  made  me  for  the  ledger  and  the  hearth. 
Let  others  emulate  the  eagle's  flight, 
Life  in  the  lowly  plains  may  be  as  bright. 
What  does  his  Excellency  Goethe  say 
About  the  white  and  shining  milky  way? 
Man  may  not  there  the  milk  of  fortune  skim. 
Nor  is  the  butter  of  it  meant  for  him. 

Falk. 
Why,  even  were  fortune-churning  our  life's  goal. 
The  labour  must  be  guided  by  the  soul; — 
Be  citizens  of  the  time  that  is — but  then 
Make  the  time  worthy  of  the  citizen. 
In  homely  things  lurks  beauty,  without  doubt. 
But  watchful  eye  and  brain  must  draw  it  out. 
Not  every  man  who  loves  the  soil  he  turns 
May  therefore  claim  to  be  another  Burns. 

Stiver. 
Then  let  us  each  our  proper  path  pursue, 
And  part  in  peace;  we  shall  not  hamper  you; 
We  keep  the  road,  you  hover  in  the  sky, 
There  where  we  too  once  floated,  she  and  I. 


.]  love's    comedy.  429 


But  work,  not  song,  provides  our  daily  bread. 
And  when  a  man's  alive,  his  music's  dead. 
A  young  man's  life's  a  lawsuit,  and  the  most 
Superfluous  litigation  in  existence: 
Withdraw,  make  terms,  abandon  all  resistance: 
Plead  where  and  how  you  will,  your  suit  is  lost. 

Falk    [bold  and  confident,  tvith  a  glance  at  the 

summer-house^. 
Nay,  tho'  I  took  it  to  the  highest  place, — 
Judgment,  I  know,  would  be  reversed  by  grace ! 
I  know  two  hearts  can  live  a  life  complete. 
With    hope    still    ardent,    and    with    faith    still 

sweet; 
You  preach  the  wretched  gospel  of  the  hour. 
That  the  Ideal  is  secondary ! 

Stiver. 

No! 
It's  primary:  appointed,  like  the  flower. 
To  generate  the  fruit,  and  then  to  go. 

[Indoors,   Miss   Jay  plays  and  sings:  "In 
the    Gloaming."      Stiver    stands    listen- 
ing in  silent  emotion. 
With  the  same  melody  she  calls  me  yet 
Which  thrilled   me  to  the   heart  when   first  we 
met. 
[Lays  his  hand  on  Falk's  ai-m  and  gazes 
intently  at  him. 

Oft  as  she  wakens  those  pathetic  notes, 
From  the  white  keys  reverberating  floats 
An  echo  of  the  "  yes  "  that  made  her  mine. 
And  when  our  passions  shall  one  day  decline. 


430  love's    comedy.  [m 


To  live  again  as  friendship,  to  the  last 
That  song  shall  link  that  present  to  this  past. 
And  what  tho'  at  the  desk  my  back  grow  round. 
And  my  day's  work  a  battle  for  mere  bread, 
Yet  joy  will  lend  me  homeward,  where  the  dead 
Enchantment  will  be  born  again  in  sound. 
If  one  poor  bit  of  evening  we  can  claim, 
I  shall  come  off  undamaged  from  the  game ! 

[He  goes  into  the  house.  Falk  turns 
towards  the  sumvier-house.  Svanhild 
comes  out,  she  is  pale  and  agitated. 
They  gaze  at  each  other  in  silence  a  mo- 
ment, and  fling  themselves  impetuously 
into  each  other's  arms. 


Falk. 

O,  Svanhild,  let  us  battle  side  by  side ! 

Thou     fresh     glad     blossom     flowering     by    the 

tomb, — 
See  wliat  the  life  is  that  they  call  youth's  bloom! 
There's     coflin-stench     of     bridegroom     and     of 

bride; 
There's  coffin-stench  wherever  two  go  by 
At  the  street  corner,  smiling  outwardly. 
With  falsehood's  recking  sepulchre  beneath. 
And  in  their  blood  the  apathy  of  death. 
And    this    they   think    is    living !      Heaven    and 

earth. 
Is  such  a  load  so  many  antics  worth? 
For  such  an  end  to  haul  up  babes  in  shoals. 
To  pamper  them  with  honesty  and  reason. 
To  feed  them  fat  with  faith  one  sorry  season, 
For  service,  after  killing-day,  as  souls .'' 


.j  love's    comedy.  431 


SVANHILD. 

Falk,  let  us  travel ! 

Falk. 

Travel?      Whither,  then? 
Is  not  the  whole  world  everywhere  the  same? 
And  does  not  Truth's  own  mirror  in  its  frame 
Lie  equally  to  all  the  sons  of  men? 
No,  we  will  stay  and  watch  tlie  merry  game, 
The  conjurer's  trick,  the  tragi-comedy 
Of  liars  that  are  dupes  of  their  own  lie; 
Stiver  and  Lind,  the  Parson  and  his  dame, 
See  them, — prize  oxen  harness'd  to  love's  yoke. 
And  yet  at  bottom  very  decent  folk ! 
Each  wears  for  others  and  himself  a  mask. 
Yet  one  too  innocent  to  take  to  task; 
Each  one,  a  stranded  sailor  on  a  wreck, 
Counts  himself  haj^py  as  the  gods  in  heaven; 
Each  his  own  hand  from  Paradise  has  driven. 
Then,  splash !  into  the  sulphur  to  the  neck ! 
But  none  has  any  inkling  where  he  lies, 
Each  thinks  himself  a  knight  of  Paradise, 
And  each  sits  smiling  between  howl  and  howl ; 
And  if  the  Fiend  come  by  with  jeer  and  growl. 
With  horns,  and  hoofs,  and  things  yet  more  ab- 
horred,— 
Then  each  man  jogs  the  neighbour  at  his  jowl: 
"Off  with  vour  hat,  man!      See,  there  goes  the 
Lord !  " 

SvANHiLD   [after  a  brief  thoughtful  silence]. 

How  marvelous  a  love  my  steps  has  led 

To  this  sweet  trysting  place !     My  life  that  sped 


432  love's    comedy.  [i 


In  frolic  and  fantastic  visions  gay, 

Henceforth    shall    grow    one    ceaseless    working 

day! 
O  God !  I  wandered  groping, — all  was  dim : 
Thou  gavest  me  light — and  I  discovered  him! 

[Gazing  at  Falk  in  love  and  wonder. 
Whence  is  that  strength  of  thine,  thou  mighty 

tree 
That    stand'st    unshaken    in    the    wind-wrecked 

wood. 
That     stand'st    alone^     and    yet    canst    shelter 

me — ? 

Falk. 
God's  truth,  my  Svanhild; — ^that  gives  fortitude. 

SvANHiLD    [with  a  shy  glance  towards  the 
house]. 
They  came  like  tempters,  evilly  inclined, 
Each  spokesman   for  his  half  of  humankind. 
One  asking:  How  can  true  love  reach  its  goal 
When  riches'  leaden  weight  subdues  the  soul.'* 
The  other  asking:  How  can  true  love  speed 
When  life's  a  battle  to  the  death  with  Need.'' 
O  horrible ! — to  bid  the  world  receive 
That  teaching  as  the  truth,  and  yet  to  live ! 

Falk. 
How  if  'twere  meant  for  us.'' 

Svanhild. 

For  us  ? — Wliat,  then  ? 
Can  outward  fate  control  the  wills  of  men? 


ACT  II 1. 1  love's    comedy.  433 


I  have  already  said :  if  thou'lt  stand  fast, 

I'll  dare  and  suffer  by  thee  to  the  last. 

How  light  to  listen  to  the  gospel's  voice, 

To  leave  one's  home  behind,  to  weep,  rejoice. 

And  take  with  God  the  husband  of  one's  choice ! 

Falk    [embracing   her]. 

Come    then,    and    blow    thy   worst,    thou    winter 

weather ! 
We  stand  unshaken,  for  we  stand  together ! 

[Mrs.  Halm  and  Guldstad  come  in  from 
the  right  in  the  background. 

Guldstad    [aside]. 
Observe ! 

[Falk   and  Svanhild  remain  standing  by 
the  summer-house. 

Mrs.    Halm    [surprised]. 
Together ! 

Guldstad. 

Do  you  doubt  it  now.'' 

Mrs.  Halm. 
This  is  most  singular. 

Guldstad. 

O,  I've  noted  how 
His  work  of  late  absorb'd  his  interest. 


434  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


Mrs.  Halm   [to  herself]. 
Who  would  have  fancied  Svanhild  was  so  sly.'' 

[Vivaciously  to  Guldstad. 
But  no — I  can't  think. 

Guldstad. 

Put  it  to  the  test. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Now,  on  the  spot.'' 

Guldstad. 

Yes,  and  decisively ! 

Mrs.  Halm   [giving  him  her  hand]. 
God's  blessing  with  you ! 

Guldstad    [gravely]. 

Thanks,  it  may  bestead. 
[Comes  to  the  front. 

Mrs.  Halm    [looking  back  as  she  goes  torvards 

the  house]. 
Whichever  way  it  goes,  my  child  is  sped. 

[Goes  in. 

Guldstad   [approaching  Falk]. 
It's  late,  I  think.'' 

Falk. 
Ten  minutes  and  I  go. 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  435 


No, 


GULDSTAD. 

Sufficient  for  my  purpose. 

SvANHiLD   [going] . 
Farewell. 

GuLDSTAD. 

Remain. 

SvANHILD, 

Shall  I> 

GuLDSTAD. 

Until  you've  answered  me. 
It's   time   we    squared   accounts.      It's   time   we 

three 
Talked  out  for  once  together  from  the  heart. 

Falk    [taken  aback]. 
We  three.? 

Guldstad. 

Yes, — all   disguises    flung  apart. 

Falk    [suppressing  a  smile]. 
O,  at  your  service. 

Guldstad. 

Very  good,  then  hear. 
We've  been  acquainted  now  for  half  a  year; 
We've  wrangled — 


436  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


Falk. 
Yes. 

GULDSTAD. 

We've  been  in  constant  feud; 
We've     changed     hard     blows     enough.       You 

fought^ — alone — 
For  a  sublime  ideal ;  I  as  one 
Among  the  money-grubbing  multitude. 
And  yet  it  seemed  as  it"  a  chord  miited 
Us  two,  as  if  a  thousand  thoughts  that  laj' 
Deep  in  my  own  youth's  memory  benighted 
Had  started  at  your  bidding  into  day. 
Yes,  I  amaze  you.     But  this  hair  grey-sprinkled 
Once   fluttered   brown    in   spring-time,   and   this 

brow. 
Which  daily  occupation  moistens  now 
With  sweat  of  labour,  was  not  always  wrinkled. 
Enough;  I  am  a  man  of  business,  hence — 

Falk    [tvith  gentle  sarcas7n]. 
You  are  the  type  of  practical  good  sense. 

Guldstai). 
And  you  are  hope's  own  singer  young  and  fain. 
^Stepping   between    them. 
Just  therefore,  Falk  and  Svanhild,  I  am  here. 
Now  let  us  talk,  then ;  for  the  hour  is  near 
Which  brings   good  hap  or  sorrow  in  its  train. 

Falk    \in  suspense^. 
Speak,  then ! 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  43? 


GuLDSTAD    [smiling]. 

My  ground  is,  as  I  said  last  night, 
A  kind  of  poetry — 

Falk. 

In  practice. 

GuLDSTAD    [nodding  slowly]. 

Right ! 

Falk. 

And   if  one   asked  the  source   from   which  you 
drew —  } 

GuLDSTAD 

[Glancing    a    moment    at    Svanhild,    and 
then  turning  again  to  Falk. 

A  common  source  discovered  by  us  two. 

Svanhild. 
Now   I   must  go. 

GuLDSTAD. 

No,  wait  till  I  conclude. 
I  should  not  ask  so  unich  of  others.     You, 
Svanhild,  I've  learnt  to  fathom  thro'  and  thro'; 
You  are  too  sensible  to  play  the  prude. 
I  watched  expand,  unfold,  your  little  life; 
A  perfect  woman  I  divined  within  you, 
But  long  I  only  saw  a  daughter  in  you; — 
Now  I  ask  of  you — will  you  be  my  wife? 

[Svanhild  draws  back  in  embarrassment. 


438  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


Falk   [seizing  his  arm]. 
Hold! 

GULDSTAD. 

Patience ;  she  must  answer.     Put  your  own 
Question  ;^ — then  lier  decision  will  be  free. 


Falk. 
I — do  you  say? 

GuLDSTAD   [looking  steadily  at  him]. 

The  happiness  of  three 
Lives  is  at  stake  to-day,— not  mine  alone. 
Don't  fancy  it  concerns  you  less  than  me; 
For  tho'  base  matter  is  my  chosen  sphere. 
Yet  nature  made  me  something  of  a  seer. 
Yes,  Falk,  you  love  her.     Gladly,  I  confess, 
I  saw  your  young  love  bursting  into  flower. 
But  this  young  passion,  with  its  lawless  power. 
May  be  the  ruin  of  her  happiness. 

Falk    [firing  up]. 
You  have  the  face  to  say  so? 

GuLDSTAD   [quietly]. 

Years  give  right. 
Say  now  you  won  her — 

Falk   [defianth/]. 

And  what  then? 


ACT  HI.]  love's    comedy.  439 

GuLDSTAD    [slo7vlij  (Hid  emphatically]. 

Yes,  say 
She  ventured  in  one  bottom  to  embark 
Her  all,  her  all  upon  one  card  to  play, — 
And  then  life's  tempest  swept  the  sliip  away. 
And  the  flower  faded  as  the  day  grew  dark? 

Falk   [involuntarily]. 
She  must  not ! 

GuLDSTAD  [looking  at  him  with  meaning]. 

Hm.     So  I  myself  decided 
When  I  was  young,  like  you.     In  days  of  old 
I  was  afire  for  one.     Our  paths  divided. 
Last  night  we  met  again; — the  fire  was  cold. 

Falk. 
Last  night? 

GuLDSTAD. 

Last  night.     You  know  the  parson's  dame — 

Falk. 
What?     It  was  she,  then,  who — 

GuLDSTAD. 

Who  lit  the  flame. 
Long  I  remembered  her  with  keen  regret, 
And  still  in  my  remembrance  she  arose 
As  the  young  lovely  woman  that  she  was 
When  in  life's  buo3'ant  s})ring-time  first  we  met. 


440  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


And  that  same  foolish  fire  you  now  are  fain 
To  light,  that  game  of  hazard  you  would  dare. 
See,  that  is  why  I  call  to  you— beware  ! 
The  game  is  perilous  !     Pause,  and  think  again ! 

Falk. 
No,  to  the  whole  tea-caucus  I  declared 
My  fixed  and  unassailable  belief — 

GuLDSTAD    [completing  his  sejitence]- 
That  heartfelt  love  can  weather  unimpaired 
Custom,  and  Poverty,  and  Age,  and  Grief. 
Well,   say   it  be   so;    possibly  you're  right; 
But  see  the  matter  in  anotlier  light. 
What  love  is,  no  man  ever  told  us — whence 
It  issues,  that  ecstatic  confidence 
That  one  life  may  fulfil  itself  in  two,^ 
To  this  no  mortal  ever  found  the  clue. 
But  marriage  is  a  practical  concern. 
As  also  is  betrothal,  my  good  sir — 
And  by  experience  easily  we  learn 
That  we  are  fitted  just  for  her,  or  her. 
But  love,  you  know,  goes  blindly  to  its  fate. 
Chooses  a  woman,  not  a  wife,  for  mate; 
And  what  if  now  this  chosen  woman  was 
No  wife  for  you — ? 

Falk    [in   suspense]. 
Well? 

GuLDSTAD    [shrug gin g  his  shoulders]. 

Then  you've  lost  your  cause. 
To  make  a  happy  bridegroom  and  a  bride 
Demands  not  love  alone,  but  much  beside. 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  441 


Relations  one  can  meet  with  satisfaction. 
Ideas  that  do  not  wholly  disagree. 
And  marriage?     Why,  it  is  a  very  sea 
Of  claims  and  calls,  of  taxing  and  exaction. 
Whose  bearing  upon  love  is  very  small. 
Here  mild  domestic  virtues  are  demanded, 
A  kitchen  soul,  inventive  and  neat  handed. 
Making  no  claims,  and  executing  all ; — 
And  much  which  in  a  lady's  presence  I 
Can   hardly   with   decorum   specify. 


Falk. 


And  therefore — .'' 


GULDSTAD. 

Hear  a  golden  counsel  then. 
Use  your  experience;  watch  your  fellow-men. 
How  every  loving  couple  struts  and  swaggers 
Like  millionaires  among  a  world  of  beggars. 
They  scamper  to  the  altar,  lad  and  lass, 
They  make  a  home  and,  drunk  with  exultation, 
Dwell  for  awhile  within  its  walls  of  glass. 
Then  comes  the  day  of  reckoning; — out,  alas. 
They're  bankrupt,   and   their   house  in   liquida- 
tion ! 
Bankrupt  the  bloom  of  youth  on  woman's  brow. 
Bankrupt  the  flower  of  passion  in  her  breast. 
Bankrupt   the   husband's    battle-ardour    now, 
Bankrupt  each   spark  of  passion   he  possessed. 
Bankrupt  the  whole  estate,  below,  above, — 
And  yet  this  broken  pair  were  once  confessed 
A  first-class  house  in  all  the  wares  of  love! 

Falk    [vehemently]. 
That  is  a  lie! 


442  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


GuLDSTAD   [unmoved]. 

Some  hours  ago  'twas  true 
However.     I  have  only  quoted  you; — 
In  these  same  words  you  challenged  to  the  field 
The    "  caucus  "    with    love's    name    upon    your 

shield. 
Then  rang  repudiation  fast  and  thick 
From  all  directions,  as  from  you  at  present; 
Incredible,  I  know;  who  finds  it  pleasant 
To  hear  the  name  of  death  when  he  is  sick.'' 
Look  at  the  priest !     A  painter  and  composer 
Of  taste  and  spirit  when  he  wooed  his  bride; — 
What  wonder  if  the  man  became  a  proser 
When  she  was  snugly  settled  by  his  side.'' 
To  be  his  lady-love  she  was  most  fit; 
To  be  his  wife,  tho' — not  a  bit  of  it. 
And  then  the  clerk,  who  once  wrote  clever  num- 
bers? 
No  sooner  was  the  gallant  plighted,  fixed. 
Than  all  his  rhymes  ran  counter  and  got  mixed; 
And  now  his  Muse  continuously  slumbers, 
Lullabied  by  the  law's  eternal  hum. 
Thus  you  see —  [Looks  at  Svanhild. 

Are  you  cold.'' 

Svanhild   [softly]. 
No. 

Falk    [with  forced  humour]. 

Since  the  sum 
Works  out  a  minus  then  in  every  case 
And  never  shows  a  plus, — why  should  you  be 


III.]  love's    comedy.  443 


So  resolute  your  capital  to  place 

In  such  a  questionable  lottery? 

It  almost  looks  as  if  you  fancied  Fate 

Had  meant  you  for  a  bankrupt  from  your  birth? 


GuLDSTAD  [looks  at  him,  smiles,  and  shakes 
his  head]. 

My    bold    young    Falk,    reserve    a    while    your 

mirth. — 
There  are  two  ways  of  founding  an  estate. 
It  may  be  built  on  credit — drafts  long-dated 
On  pleasure  in  a  never-ending  bout. 
On  perpetuity  of  youth  unbated, 
And  permanent  postponement  of  the  gout. 
It  may  be  built  on  lips  of  rosy  red, 
On  sparkling  eyes  and  locks  of  flowing  gold, 
On  trust  these  glories  never  will  be  shed. 
Nor  the  dread  hour  of  periwigs  be  tolled. 
It    may    be    built    on   thoughts    that    glow    and 

quiver, — 
Flowers  blowing  in  the  sandy  wilderness, — 
On  hearts  that,  to  the  end  of  life,  for  ever 
Throb  with  the  passion  of  the  primal  "  yes." 
To  dealings  such  as  this  the  world  extends 
One  epithet:  'tis  known  as  "  humbug,"  friends. 

Falk. 

I  see,  you  are  a  dangerous  attorney, 
You — well-to-do,  a  millionaire  may-be ; 
While  two  broad  backs  could  carry  in  one  jour- 
ney 
All  that  beneath  the  sun  belongs  to  me. 


444  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


GuLDSTAD   [  sharply  ] . 
What  do  you  mean? 

Falk. 

That  is  not  hard  to  see. 
For  the  sound  way  of  building,  I  suppose, 
Is  just  with  cash — the  Avonder- working  paint 
That  round  the  widow's  batten'd  forehead  throws 
The  aureole  of  a  young  adored  saint. 

GuLDSTAD. 

O  no,  'tis  something  better  that  I  meant. 

'Tis  the  still  flow  of  generous  esteem. 

Which  no  less  honours  the  recipient 

Than     does     young     rapture's     giddy-whirling 

dream. 
It  is  the  feeling  of  the  blessedness 
Of  service,  and  home  quiet,  and  tender  ties. 
The  joy  of  mutual  self-sacrifice. 
Of  keeping  watch  lest  any  stone  distress 
Her  footsteps  wheresoe'er  her  pathway  lies; 
It  is  the  healing  arm  of  a  true  friend. 
The  manly  muscle  that  no  burdens  bend, 
The  constancy  no  lengtli  of  years  decays. 
The  arm  that  stoutly  lifts  and  firmly  stays. 
This,  Svanhild,  is  the  contribution  I 
Bring  to  your  fortune's  fabric :  now,  reply. 

[Svanhild     makes     an     effort     to     speak; 
GuLDSTAD  lifts  his  hand  to  check  her. 

Consider  well  before  you  give  your  voice ! 
With  clear  deliberation  make  vour  choice. 


ACT  III.]  love's     comedy.  44'5 


Falk. 
And  how  have  you  discovered — 

GuLDSTAD. 

That  you  love  her? 
That  in  your  eyes  'twas  easy  to  discover. 
Let  her  too  know  it.  [Presses  his  hand. 

Now  I  will  go  in. 
Let  the  jest  cease  and  earnest  work  hegin; 
And  if  you  undertake  that  till  the  end 
You'll  be  to  her  no  less  a  faitliful  friend, 
A  staff  to  lean  on^  and  a  help  in  need, 
Than  I  can  be —  [Turning  to  Svanhild. 

Why,  good,  my  offer's  nought; 
Cancel  it  from  the  tables  of  your  thought. 
Then  it  is  I  who  triumph  in  very  deed ; 
You're  happy,  and  for  nothing  else  I  fought. 

[To  Falk. 
And.  apropos — just  now  you  spoke  of  cash, 
Trust  nie^  'tis  little  more  than  tinsell'd  trash. 
I  have  no  ties,  stand  perfectly  alone; 
To  you  1  will  make  over  all  I  own ; 
My  daughter  she  shall  be,  and  you  my  son. 
You  know  I  have  a  business  by  the  border: 
There  Lll  retire,  you  set  your  home  in  order. 
And  we'll  foregather  when  a  year  is  gone. 
Now,   Falk,  you  know  me;   with  the  same  pre- 
cision 
Observe  yourself:  the  voyage  down  life's  stream, 
Remeniber,  is  no  pastime  and  no  dream. 
Now,  in  the  name  of  God — make  your  decision ! 
[Goes  into  the   house.      Pause.      Falk   and 
SvAXiiiMi  loo/:  shi/Ii/  at  each  other. 


44-6  love's     comedy.  [act    III. 

Falk. 


You  are  so  pale. 


SVANHILD. 

And  you   so  silent. 
Falk. 


True. 


SVANHILD. 

He  smote  us  hardest. 


Falk    [to  himself]. 

Stole  my  armour,  too. 

Svanhild. 
What  blows  he  struck ! 

Falk. 
He  knew  to  place  them  well. 

Svanhild. 
All  seemed  to  go  to  pieces  where  they  fell. 

[Coming  nearer  to  him. 
How  rich  in  one  another's  wealth  before 
We  were,  wlien  all  had  left  us  in  despite, 
And  Thought  rose  upward  like  the  eclioing  roar 
Of  breakers  in  the  silence  of  the  night. 
With  exultation  then  we  faced  the  fray, 
And  confidence  tliat  Love  is  lord  of  death ; — 
He  came  with  worldly  cunning,  stole  our  faith. 
Sowed  doubt, — and  all  the  glory  pass'd  away ! 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  447 


Falk   [with  wild  vehemence]. 

Tear,  tear  it  from  thy  memory !     All  his  talk 
Was  true  for  others,  but  for  us  a  lie ! 

SvANHiLD   [slowly  shaking  her  head]. 

The  golden  grain,  hail-stricken  on  its  stalk. 
Will  never  more  wave  wanton  to  the  sky. 

Falk  [with  an  outburst  of  ajiguish]. 
Yes,  we  two,  Svanhild — ! 

Svanhild. 

Hence  with  hopes  that  snare ! 
If  you  sow  falsehood,  you  must  reap  despair. 
For  others  true,  you  say-f*     And  do  you  doubt 
That  each  of  them,  like  us,  is  sure,  alike. 
That  he's  the  man  the  lightning  will  not  strike. 
And  no  avenging  thunder  will  find  out, 
Whom  the   blue    storm-cloud,   scudding   up   the 

sky 
On  wings  of  tempest,  never  can  come  nigh? 

Falk. 

The  others  split  their  souls  on  scattered  ends: 
Thy  single  love  my  being  comprehends. 
They're  hoarse  with  yelling  in  life's  Babel  din: 
I  in  this  quiet  shelter  fold  thee  in. 

Svanhild. 
But  if  love,  notwithstanding,  should  decay, 
■ — Love  being  Happiness's  single  stay — 
Could  you  avert,  then,  Happiness's  fall.'' 


448  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


Falk. 
No,  my  love's  ruin  were  the  wreck  of  all. 

SVANHILD. 

And  can  you  promise  me  before  tlie  Lord 
That  it  will  last,  not  drooping  like  the  flower, 
But  smell  as  sweet  as  now  till  life's  last  hour? 

Falk    [after  a  short  pause]. 
It  will  last  long. 

SvANHiLD    [with  anguish]. 
"  Long !  "   "  Long !  " — Poor  starveling  word  ! 
Can  "  long"  give  any  comfort  in  Ixjve's  need? 
It  is  her  death-doom,  blight  upon  her  seed. 
"  My  faith  is.  Love  will  never  pass  away  " — 
That    song    must    cease,    and    in    its    stead    bf^ 

heard : 
"  My  faith  is,  that  I  loved  you  j'esterdaj' !  " 

[As  uplifted  by   inspiration. 
No,  no,  not  thus  our  day  of  bliss  shall  M-ane, 
Flag  drearily  to  west  in  clouds  and  rain ; — 
But  at  high  noontide,  when  it  is  most  bright. 
Plunge  sudden,  like  a  meteor,  into  night ! 

Falk    [in  anguisJi]. 
What  would  you,  Svanhild  ? 

SVANHILD. 

We  are  of  the  Spring; 
No  Autumn  shall  come  after,  when  the  bird 
Of  music  in  thy  breast  shall  not  be  heard, 
And  long  not  thither  where  it  first  took  wing.     . 


I.]  love's    comedy.  449 


Nor  ever  Winter  shall  his  snowy  shroud 
Lay  on  the  clay-cold  body  of  our  bliss ; — 
This  Love  of  ours,  ardent  and  glad  and  proud, 
Pure  of  disease's  taint  and  age's  cloud, 
Shall  die  the  young  and  glorious  thing  it  is ! 

Falk    [hi  deep  pain]. 
And  far  from  thee — what  would  be  left  of  life? 

SVANHILD. 

And  near  me  what  were  left — if  Love  depart  ? 

Falk. 
A  home ! 

SVANHILD. 

Where  Joy  would  gasp  in  mortal  strife. 

[Firmli/. 
It  was  not  given  to  me  to  be  your  wife. 
That  is  the  clear  conviction  of  my  heart ! 
In  courtship's  merry  pastime  I  can  lead. 
But  not  sustain  your  spirit  in  its  need. 

[Nearer  and  with  gathering  fire. 
Now  we  have  revell'd  out  a  feast  of  spring; 
No  thought  of  slumber's   sluggard  couch  come 

nigh ! 
Let  Joy  amid  delirious  song  make  wing 
And  flock  with  choirs  of  cherubim  on  high. 
And  tho'  the  vessel  of  our  fate  capsize. 
One    plank    yet    breasts    the    waters,    strong    to 

save ; — 
The  fearless  swimmer  reaches  Paradise ! 
Let  Joy  go  down  into  his  watery  grave ; 
Our  Love  shall  yet  in  triumph,  by  God's  hand, 
Ee  borne  from  out  the  wreckage  safe  to  land ! 


450  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


Falk. 
O,  I  divine  thee !     But — to  sever  thus  ! 
Now,    when    the    portals    of    the    world    stand 

wide, — 
When  the  blue  spring  is  bending  over  us, 
On  the  same  day  that  plighted  thee  my  bride ! 

SVANHILD. 

Just  therefore  must  we  part.     Our  joy's  torch 

fire 
Will  from  this  moment  wane  till  it  expire ! 
And  when  at  last  our  worldly  days  are  spent, 
And  face  to  face  with  our  great  Judge  we  stand, 
And,  as  a  righteous  God,  he  shall  demand 
Of  us  the  earthly  treasure  that  he  lent — 
Then,   Falk,   we   cry — past  power   of   Grace  to 

save — 
"  O  Lord,  we  lost  it  going  to  the  grave !  " 

Falk    [with  strong  resolve]. 
Pluck  off  the  ring ! 

SvANHiLD   [with  fire]. 
Wilt  thou.? 

Falk. 

Now  I  divine ! 
Thus  and  no  otherwise  canst  thou  be  mine ! 
As  the  grave  opens  into  life's  Dawn-fire, 
So  Love  with  Life  may  not  espoused  be 
Till,  loosed  from  longing  and  from  wild  desire. 
It  soars  into  the  heaven  of  memory ! 
Pluck  off  the  ring,  Svanhild ! 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  451 


SvANHiLD    [in  rapture]. 

My  task  is  done ! 
Now  I  have  filled  thy  soul  with  song  and  sun. 
Forth !        Now     thou     soarest     on     triumphant 

wings, — 
Forth!      Now    thy    Svanhild    is    the    swan   that 

sings ! 

[Takes  off  the  ring  and  presses  a  kiss 
upon  it. 

To  the  abysmal  ooze  of  ocean  bed 

Descend,  my  dream ! — I  fling  thee  in  its  stead ! 

[Goes  a  few  steps  back,  throws  the  ring  into 
the  fjord,  and  approaches  Falk  rvith  a 
transfigured  expression. 

Now  for  this  earthly  life  I  have  foregone  thee, — 
But  for  the  life  eternal  I  have  won  thee ! 


Falk    [firmly]. 

And  now  to  the  day's  duties,  each,  alone. 

Our    paths    no    more    will   mingle.      Each   must 

wage 
His  warfare  single-handed,  without  moan. 
We  caught  tlie  fevered  frenzy  of  the  age. 
Fain  without  fighting  to  secure  the  spoil, 
Win  Sabbath  ease,  and  shirk  the  six  days'  toil, 
Tho'  we  are  called  to  strive  and  to  forego. 


Svanhild. 
But  not  in  sickness. 


452  love's    comedy.  [ac 


Falk. 
No, — made  strong  by  truth. 
Our  heads  no  penal  flood  will  overflow; 
This  never-dying  memory  of  our  youth 
Shall    gleam    against    the    cloud-wrack    like   the 

bow 
Of  promise  flaming  in  its  colours  seven, — 
Sign  that  we  are  in  harmony  with  heaven. 
That     gleam     your     quiet     duties     shall     make 

bright — 

SVANHILD. 

And  speed  the  poet  in  his  upward  flight ! 

Falk. 
The  poet,  yes ;  for  poets  all  men  are 
Who  see,  thro'  all  their  labours,  mean  or  great. 
In  pulpit  or  in  schoolroom,  church  or  state. 
The  Ideal's  lone  beacon-splendour  flame  afar. 
Yes,  upward  is  my  flight;  the  winged  steed 
Is  saddled ;  I  am  strung  for  noble  deed. 
And  now,  farewell ! 

Svanhild. 

Farewell ! 

Falk    [embracing  her]. 

One  kiss ! 

Svanhild. 

The  last! 

\Trnrx  herself  free. 
Now  I  can  lose  tliee  gladly  till  life's  past! 


love's    comedy.  4f53 


Falk. 


The'  quenched  were  all  the  light  of  earth  and 

sky, — 
The  thought  of  light  is  God,  and  cannot  die. 

SvANHiLD    [withdrawing  towards  the  back- 
ground]. 
Farewell!  [Goes  further. 

Falk. 

Farewell — gladly  I  cry  again — 

[Waves  his  hat. 

Hurrah  for  love,  God's  glorious  gift  to  men ! 

[The  door  opens.  Falk  withdraws  to  the 
right;  the  younger  guests  come  out  with 
merry  laughter. 

The  Young  Girls. 
A  lawn  dance ! 

A  Young  Girl. 
Dancing's  life! 

Another. 

A  garland  spread 
With  dewy  blossoms  fresh  on  every  head ! 

Several. 
Yes,  to  the  dance,  the  dance ! 


454  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 


All. 

And  ne'er  to  bed! 
[Stiver  comes  out  with  Strawman  arm  in 
arm.     Mrs.  Strawman  and  the  children 
follorv. 

Stiver. 
Yes,  you  and  I  henceforward  are  fast  friends. 

Strawman. 
Allied  in  battle  for  our  common  ends. 

Stiver. 
When  the  twin  forces  of  the  State  agree — 

Strawman. 
They  add  to  all  men's — 

Stiver   [hastily]. 
Gains ! 

Strawman. 

And  gaiety. 
[Mrs.  Halm,  Lind,  Anna,  Guldstad,  and 
Miss  Jay,  with  the  other  guests,  come 
out.  All  eyes  are  turned  upon  Falk  and 
Svanhild.  General  amazement  when 
they  are  seen  standing  apart. 

Miss  Jay  [among  the  Aunts,  clasping  her 
hands]. 
What!     Am  I  awake  or  dreaming,  pray.^" 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  455 


LiND    [who  has  noticed  nothing]. 
I  have  a  brother's  compliments  to  pay. 

[He,  with  the  other  guests,  approaches 
Falk,  but  starts  involuntarily  and  steps 
back  on  looking  at  him. 

What  is  the  matter  with  you.''     You're  a  Janus 
With  double  face ! 

Falk    [smiling]. 

I   cry,  like  old  Montanus, 
The  earth  is   flat,   Messieurs; — my  optics   lied; 
Flat  as  a  pancake— are  you  satisfied? 

[Goes  quickly  out  to  the  right. 

Miss  Jay. 
Refused ! 

The  Aunts. 
Refused ! 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Hush,  ladies,  if  you  please! 
l^Goes  across  to  Svanhild. 

Mrs.   Strawman   [to  Strawman]. 
Fancy,  refused ! 

Strawman. 
It  cannot  be ! 

Miss  Jay. 

It  is! 


ii56  love's    comedy.  [acitt  hi. 


The  Ladies  [from  mouth  to  mouth]. 

Refused  !     Refused  !     Refused  ! 

[They    gather    in    little    groups    about    the 
garden. 

Stiver   [dum founded]. 

He  courting?      How? 

Strawman. 

Yes,    think !      He    laugh'd    at   us,    ha,    ha — but 
now — 

[They  gaze  at  each  other  speechless. 

Anna  [to  Lind]. 
That's  good !     He  was  too  horrid,  to  be  sure ! 

Lind   [embracing  her]. 
Hurrah,  now  tliou  art  mine,  entire  and  vliolc. 

[They  go  outside   into   the  garden, 

Guldstad  [loohivg  back  towards  Svaniii;.')]. 

Something  is  shattered  in  a  certain  soul ; 
But  what  is  yet  alive  in  it  I'll  cure. 

Strawman    [recovering  himself  and  embracing 
Stiver]. 

Now  then,  you  can  be  very  well  contented 
To  have  your  dear  fiancee  for  a  spouse. 


ACT  II 1. 1  love's    comedy.  457 


Stiver. 


And  you  complacently  can  see  your  house 
With  little  Strawmans  every  year  augmented. 

Strawman 

[Rubbing  his   hands   with   satisfaction   and 
looking  after  Falk. 

Insolent  fellow!     Well,  it  served  him  right; — 
Would    all    these    knowing   knaves    were    in    his 
plight ! 

[They    go    across    in    cojiversation;    Mrs. 
Halm  approaches  with  Svanhilo. 

Mrs.  Halm    [aside,  eagerly^. 
And  nothing  binds  you.'' 

Svanhild. 

Nothing. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Good,  you  know 
A  daughter's  duty — 

Svanhild. 

Guide  me,  I  obey. 

Mrs.   Halm. 

Thanks,  child.  [Pointing  to  Guldstad. 

He  is  a  rich  and  comme  il  faut 
Parti;  and  since  there's  nothing  in  the  way — 


458  love's    comedy.  [act  in. 


SVANHILD. 


Yes,  there  is  one  condition  I  require ! — 
To  leave  this  place. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Precisely  his  desire. 


SVANHILD. 


And  time — 


Mrs.  Halm. 
How  long.''     Bethink  you,  fortune's  calling! 

SvANHiLD   [with  a  quiet  smile]. 

Only  a  little;  till  the  leaves  are  falling. 

[She  goes  towards  the  verandah;  Mrs. 
Halm  seeks  out  Guldstad. 

Strawman  [among  the  guests]. 

One  lesson,  friends,  we  learn  from  this  example ! 
Tho'  Doubt's  beleaguering  forces  hem  us  in, 
Yet  Truth  upon  the  Serpent's  head  shall  tram- 
ple. 
The  cause  of  Love  shall  win — 

Guests. 

Yes,   Love   shall  win ! 

[They  embrace  and  kiss,  pair  by  pair. 
Outside  to  the  left  are  heard  song  and 
laughter. 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  459 

Miss  Jay. 
What  can  this  mean? 

Anna. 
The  students ! 

LiND. 

The  quartette. 
Bound  for  the  mountains ; — and  I  quite  forgot 
To  tell  them — 

[The  Students  come  in  to  the  left  and  re- 
main standing  at   the  entrance. 

A  Student  [to  Lind]. 

Here  we  are  upon  the  spot! 

Mrs.   Halm. 
It's   Lind  you  seek,  then? 

Miss  Jay. 

That's  unfortunate. 
He's  just  engaged — 

An  Aunt, 

And  so,  you  may  be  sure. 
He  cannot  think  of  going  on  a  tour. 

The  Students. 
Engaged ! 


460  lovk's    comedy.  [ac 


All  the   Students. 
Congratulations ! 

LiND   [to  his  comrades]. 

Thanks,  my  friends ! 

The  Student    [to  his  comrades]. 

There  goes  our  whole  fisli-kettle  in  the  fire ! 
Our  tenor  lost !     No  possible  amends ! 

Falk 

[Coming  from   the   right,   in   summer   suit, 
Tvith   student's   cap,   knapsack   and  stick. 
I'M  sing  the  tenor  in  young  Norway's  choir ! 

The  Students. 
You,  Falk  !  hurrah  ! 

Falk. 

Fortli  to  the  mountains,  come ! 
As  the  bee  hurries  from  her  winter  home ! 
A  twofold  music  in  my  breast  I  bear, 
A  cither  with  diversely  sounding  strings. 
One  for  life's  joy,  a  treble  loud  and  clear. 
And  one  deep  note  that  quivers  as  it  sings. 

[To  individuals  among  the  Stxjdents. 
You    hnve    the    palette? — You    the    note-book? 

Good, 
Swarm  then,  my  bees,  into  the  leafy  wood. 
Till  at  night-fnll  with  pollen-laden  thigh, 
Home  to  our  mighty  mother-queen  we  fly ! 


ACT  III.]  love's    comedy.  46 1 

[Tur7iing  to   the   company,  trhile  the   Stu- 
dents depart  and  the  Chorus  of  the  First 
Act  is  faintly  heard  outside. 
Forgive  me  my  ofFences  great  and  small, 
I  resent  nothing; —  [Softly. 

but  remember  all. 

Strawman   [beaming  with  happiness^. 
Now  fortune's  garden  once  again  is  green ! 
My  wife  has  hopes, — a  sweet  presentiment — 

[Draws  him  whispering  apart. 
She  lately  whispered  of  a  glad  event — 

[Inaudible  words  intervene. 
If  all  goes  well  ...   at  iSIichaelmas  .  .  .  thir- 
teen ! 

Stiver 
[With    Miss    Jay    on    his   arm,    turning    to 
Falk,    smiles     triumphantly,    and    says, 
pointing  to  Strawman: 
I'm  going  to  start  a  liousehold,  flush  of  pelf! 

Miss  Jay   [with  an  ironical  courtesy^. 
I  shall  put  on  my  wedding-ring  next  Yule. 

Anna    [similarly,  as  she  takes  Lino's  arm]. 
My  Lind  will  stay,  the  Church  can  mind  itself — 

LiND   [hiding  his  embarrassment]. 
And  seek  an  opening  in  a  ladies'  school. 

Mrs.   Halm. 
I  cultivate  my  Anna's  capabilities — 


462  love's    comedy.  [act  m. 

GuLDSTAD    [gravely]. 
An  unromantic  poem  I  mean  to  make 
Of  one  who  only  lives  for  duty's  sake. 

Falk   [with  a  smile  to  the  whole  company], 

I  go  to  scale  the  Future's  possibilities ! 

Farewell!  [Softly  to  Svanhild. 

God  bless  thee,  bride  of  my  life's  dawn. 

Where'er  I  be,  to  nobler  deed  thou'lt  wake  me. 

[  Waves  his  hat  and  follows  the  Students. 

SVANHILD 

[Looks  after  him  a  moment,  then  says, 
softly  but  firmly: 
Now  over  is  my  life,  by  lea  and  lawn. 
The  leaves  are  falling; — now  the  world  may 
take  me. 
[At  this  moment  the  piano  strikes  up  a 
dance,  and  champagne  corks  explode  in 
the  background.  The  gentlemen  hurry 
to  and  fro  with  their  ladies  on  their 
arms.  Guldstad  approaches  Svanhild 
and  bows:  she  starts  momentarily,  then 
collects  herself  and  gives  him  her  hand. 
Mrs.  Halm  and  her  family,  who  have 
watched  the  scene  in  suspense,  throng 
about  them  with  expressions  of  rapture, 
which  are  overpowered  by  the  music  and 
the  merriment  of  the  dancers  in  the 
garden. 
[But  from  the  country  the  following 
chorus  rings  loud  and  defiant  through 
the  dance  music: 


[I.]  love's    comedy.  463 


Chorus  of  Falk  and  the  Students. 

And  what  if  I  shattered  my  roaming  bark. 
It  was  passing  sweet  to  be  roaming ! 

Most  of  the  Company. 
Hurrah ! 

[Dance  and  merriment;  the  curtain  falls. 

NOTES 

P.  18.  ""William  Russel."  An  original  historic  trngedy, 
founded  upon  the  career  of  the  ill-fated  liord  William 
Russell,  by  Andreas  Munch,  cousin  of  the  historian  P.  A. 
Munch.  It  was  produced  at  Christiania  in  1857,  the  year  of 
Ibsen's  return  from  Bergen,  and  reviewed  by  him  in  the 
lUustreret  Nyhedshlad  for  that  year,  Nos.  51  and  52.  Pro- 
fessor Johan  Storm  of  Christiania,  to  whose  kindness  I  owe 
these  particulars,  adds  that  "it  is  rather  a  fine  play  and 
created  a  certain  sensation  in  its  time;  but  Munch  is  for- 
gotten." 

P.  20.  A  grey  old  stager.  Ibsen's  friend  P.  Botten- 
Hansen,  author  of  the  play  HyldrehryUwpet. 

P.  59.  A  Svanhild  like  the  old.  In  the  tale  of  the  Vol- 
sungs  Svanhild  was  the  daughter  o'f  Sigurd  and  Gndrun. — 
the  Siegfried  and  Kriemhild  of  the  Nibelungenlied.  The 
fierce  king  Jormunrek,  hearing  of  her  matchless  beauty, 
sends  his  son  Randwer  to  woo  her  in  his  name.  Randwer 
is,  however,  induced  to  woo  her  in  his  own,  and  the  girl 
approves.  Jormunrek  thereupon  causes  Randwer  to  be 
arrested  and  hanged,  and  meeting  with  Svanhild,  as  he  and 
his  men  ride  home  from  the  hunt,  tramples  her  to  death  un- 
der their  horses' hoofs.  Gudru7i  incites  her  sons  Sorli  and 
Hamdir  to  avenge  their  sister;  they  boldly  enter  Jormunrck's 
hall,  and  succeed  in  cutting  off  his  hands  and  feet,  but  are 
themselves  slain  by  his  men.  This  last  dramatic  episode  is 
told  in  the  Eddie  tiamthi.vnol. 

P.  94.  In  the  remotest  east  there  groics  a  plant.  The  germ 
of  the  famous  tea-simile  is  due  to  Fru  Collett's  romance, 


464  love's    comedy.  [act  hi. 

"The  Official's  Daughters"  {cf.  Introduction,  p.  ix.).  But 
she  exploits  the  idea  only  under  a  single  and  obvious  aspect, 
viz.,  the  comparison  of  the  tender  bloom  of  love  with  the 
precious  firstling  blade  which  brews  the  quintessential  tea 
for  the  Chinese  emjieror's  table;  what  the  world  calls  love 
being,  like  what  it  calls  tea,  a  coarse  and  flavo  rless  after- 
crop. Ibsen  has,  it  will  be  seen,  given  a  number  of  ingenious 
developments  to  the  analogy.  I  know  Fru  Collett's  work 
only  through  the  accounts  of  it  given  by  Brandes  and 
Jaeger. 

P.  135.  Anotlier  Bums.  In  the  original:  "Dolen" 
("The  Dalesman"),  that  is  A.  O.  Vinje,  Ibsen's  friend  and 
literary  comrade,  editor  of  the  journal  so-called  and  hence 
known  familiarly  by  its  name.     See  the  Introduction. 

P.  160.  Like  Old  Montanus.  The  hero  of  Holberg's 
comedy  Erasmus  Montanus,  who  returns  from  foreign  travel 
to  his  native  pariah  with  the  discovery  that  the  world  is  not 
flat.  Public  indignation  is  aroused,  and  Montanus  finds  it 
expedient  to  announce  that  his  eyes  had  deceived  him,  that 
"  the  world  is  flat,  gentlemen." 


n>4 


REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITV 


A     001  109  744     1 


CENTRAL  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
University  of  California.  San  Diego 

DATE  DUE 


DE^'  ^0  V^l 

MAY  04 1978 

1 

1 

1 

, 

1 

C/39 

UCSD  Libr. 

